The Legacy of Callisto Part 1: Retribution's Child
by Stayce
Summary: Returned to the world of the living by a pact with Zeus and Hades, Callisto finds herself on a mission to save all of Greece from an insidious new threat, and on an unexpected road to redemption. AU story set after the events of Sacrifice Part 2 at the end of season 3 - Now complete
1. Prologue: Visions from Beneath

**The Legacy of Callisto**

_'And a sudden plunge in the sullen swell. _

_Ten fathoms deep on the road to hell'_

_ The Derelict_

**Retribution's Child**  
**Prologue: Visions from Beneath**

The chamber was enormous. So enormous even, that it's ceiling could not be seen. Rough stone walls slick with moisture towered up into inky blackness, and the only light cast came from torches mounted in dull iron brackets. Strangely enough, the torches produced no smoke. The base of the chamber was a huge circular pit of blackest obsidian, carved smooth and polished to a sheen that glinted in the flickering torch light. Above this pit, row upon row of chill stone benches ascended up and up to the more natural stone. Each row was arranged in concentric rings growing larger and larger as they continued. To the mortal eye the number of rows was almost vertiginous, a seemingly infinite number paradoxically crammed into a finite space and all of them facing down over a dark throne at the center of the pit. The throne itself was seemingly cut of a piece with the rest of the obsidian surrounding it, a bleak and brooding thing simply fashioned yet monolithic and starkly imperious, mute testament to raw strength without ostentation. Beside it was an equally simple block of granite and upon the block rested a helm cast of bronze. It was anachronistically elaborate, decorated as it was with intricately worked serpents the longest of which stretched from the helm's nose guard to the nape at its base.

Now the room sat almost silent save the occasional drip of moisture from the walls and the hushed voices of two figures seated in plain wooden chairs and gazing into a deep golden bowl that was filled to the brim with water. The helm and throne loomed large and dark behind them.

"This does not bode well," said the seemingly younger of the two men. He was clad all in leather armour, black as pitch save a luxuriant cloak lined with crimson velvet that draped over the back of his chair. "How can we simply sit here and not act? Our very fates are depending on this."

The other man, apparently older with a thick mane of silver hair and an equally thick beard that spilled down to his chest held up his hand for quiet. Without speaking he leaned forward, his eyes fixed intently on the scene playing out for him beneath the surface of the water.

The image was of a dark haired woman, dressed in leather battle garb and wielding a cruel looking dagger. She seemed rooted to the spot as she lunged for a younger woman wearing silken red robes and standing at the edge of blazing pit. The younger woman's eyes were tinged with dark intent as the older woman strained with all her strength to reach her, the dagger in her hand trembling as the muscles in her arm pulled taught. Nearby stood a third woman similarly clad to the first. Wild blonde hair framed a narrow face and a wide, but malicious grin. She was stretching out a hand, her fingers working the empty air in a state of enraptured excitement.

As the whole tableau unfolded the younger girl mouthed something, her words lost to the scrying water's magic and slowly but surely the dark haired warrior with the dagger inched her way forward, edging back the other until they were at the rim of the pit. And then out of nowhere a fourth woman appeared, the mirror image of the woman in silken robes. She dove through the air, colliding so hard with her doppelganger that the two span around. The woman managed one last look to her friend with the dagger as she and her duplicate plunged over the rim of the pit into the fiery depths below.

Next to the old man, the seemingly younger man leaned back in his chair and breathed a sigh of relief.

"It's done then," he said simply. "Not the finest of endings but an ending nonetheless."

He began to rise from his seat but the older man waved him back down.

"Be still brother," he hissed "This little drama of ours is not done yet."

The younger man frowned as he seated himself again and leaned back in over the scrying bowl.

The woman with the dagger had dropped to her knees at the pit's edge, her mouth opening wide in a silent cry of despair and misery. Nearby the blonde woman's eyes widened and for the briefest second there was something else there; a look of cold calculation. As quickly as it had come it was gone and her already wide grin spread even wider. She raised her hands to her mouth as if to suppress a laugh, and then let them fall back to her side as if she weren't even really trying. Her shoulders shook with mirth as she tiptoed gingerly up behind the other woman. She opened her mouth and began to speak.

The old man leaned further forward.

"This will not do," he muttered to himself and passed his hand over the scrying pool in a simple gesture.

Suddenly the blonde woman's voice filled the chamber as if she were standing at its center and speaking aloud to the row upon row of empty benches.

"...seeing poor dear Gabrielle sacrifice herself makes it all worth while," she said, her voice so earnest in its revelation that it was like a knife to the heart.

"It finally gives me a reason..." she continued "...for living and I have you to thank for it Xena!"

As she finished speaking her voice broke into another round of abrasive, giggling laughter. The bearded man raised a hand to his brother's shoulder but still did not take his eyes off the bowl.

"Brace yourself Hades," he said. "You will need to be prepared."

Hades eyed the bearded man suspiciously.

"For what?" he asked.

"A death," his brother replied.

With a furious cry the dark haired woman, Xena, rose to her feet and span on her heel, the vicious dagger she still clutched flashing wickedly in the rooms dim light. It caught the blonde woman square in the gut and she gasped in surprise as the wind was driven out of her. Xena's face quivered between both anger and anguish as she looked down at the blonde woman dying on the end of her blade.

"No more living for you." her voice croaked. The blonde woman shuddered in pain as her life began to ebb away, and as the shudder ran through her a distant rumble could be heard. It quickly grew in volume and as it grew, tremors began to rock the image in the scrying pool. Suddenly the water began to ripple and the chamber in which the two men sat began to shake as well. The sound of stone cracking and grinding filled the air too, growing louder and louder as the severity of the quakes continued to build. The older man and Hades were on their feet now, their chairs turned over in urgency, the scrying pool forgotten.

"Now Hades!" The bearded man bellowed over the roaring stone. "Do it now!"

Hades closed his eyes and flung his arms wide, his cloak billowing behind him as a shadow with no apparent source fell across him. The quake reached its crescendo, with each vicious twist and turn of stone, the chamber cracked and smashed. Narrow fractures spread throughout the obsidian walls of the pit and even over the bleak throne at its center while a particularly vicious quake tipped the scrying bowl from its pedestal, the clear crystalline water spilling across the cracked floor.

Throughout it all the bronze helm beside the throne never so much as trembled.

Suddenly Hades' eyes shot open, a look of terror flashing in them and he let out an unbridled cry of pain. The air around him suddenly changed, stretching and shifting into the screaming visage of the blonde woman from the scrying pool. She hovered for a brief moment before seeming to stream in toward Hades' open mouth, the incorporeal image of her knifing through the shadow like the light of a blazing fire cutting through the blackest night. Suddenly the shadow lifted and the air around Hades tightened then cracked like a whip, hurling him across the chamber to crash against the throne. He slammed against its high back with such force that he was carried straight through it, the back exploding in a shower of black fragments and crystalline dust as Hades himself hit the floor with the heavy crunch of bone on stone. His body skidded several more feet before finally coming to a stop. As he came to a stop the quakes subsided as quickly as they had begun until all was reduced to stillness and silence. He lay motionless for long minutes before finally rolling onto his back, his breath coming in short, sharp, ragged gasps. The old man was at his side in an instant, seeming never to occupy the intervening space between them.

"Brother! What was it?" he said kneeling and helping Hades into a sitting position. "What did you see?"

Hades struggled to answer, his breathing still ragged. Suddenly he broke into a series of hacking coughs as, slowly, his breathing began to return to normal.

"Your concern is touching Zeus," he managed between laboured breaths. "I think I see now why Hera loves you so."

The jibe was meant in jest but Zeus still grimaced.

"This is hardly the time for cheap shots," he spoke sternly.

"No argument from me there," Hades replied. "Help me up and I'll tell you what I saw."

Zeus wrapped an arm around Hades' waist, hefting him as if he weighed no more than a feather. It was a display of strength that would have been impressive in a mortal man seemingly half his age. The two picked their way through the rubble of the ruined throne and to the overturned chairs they had been seated on before. Zeus quickly righted one and eased Hades down into it. The seemingly younger man gave a groan as he settled into the seat.

"It has been a long time since I ached like this," he said, raising his arm and rotating it in its socket. The shoulder joint cracked loudly. "I dislike it intensely."

Zeus gave a low grunt.

"I fear that a few aches and bruises may be the least of our worries. Were our suspicions correct?"

Hades paused for a moment then nodded.

"They were."

Zeus raised a hand to his chin and rubbed his beard thoughtfully.

"Interesting."

Hades' eyes widened at that.

"Interesting!?" he spluttered. "Gods perishing, the natural order of all things tilting toward chaos, the boundaries of my realm weakening, and all you can say is that it's interesting!?"

Zeus eyed him levelly.

"Would you rather I said it was terrifying?" he said.

Hades regarded his brother for a moment, and then snapped his gloved fingers.

"You have a plan!" he said. A slight smile lit at the corners of Zeus' mouth and he nodded.

"Have you ever known me not to?"

"I suppose not." Hades leaned back in his chair and folded his arms across his chest, his breathing coming more easily now.

"So what is this plan of yours?"

"Quite simple really," Zeus said.

Hades frowned.

"Go on," he said.

"A champion. A chosen of the gods," Zeus continued.

Hades cocked an eyebrow at his brother.

"A bit old fashioned don't you think?"

"We are an old fashioned people," Zeus replied. "And besides, the idea may be old, but my choice is... how shall we say... unconventional."

Hades leaned forward, his interest peaked.

"Who did you have in mind? Xena? Forgive me for saying, but I doubt she will be in any fit state to help us at present."

Zeus shook his head.

"Hercules then? Or that scruffy friend of his?"

"Hades," Zeus admonished "You always come to the simplest solution. The most predictable solution. You should know me well enough to know that I would never involve my son in this. The danger is too great and the world will have need of him after all is said and done. Besides those we are moving against would predict it. Try a little more imagination on for size."

Hades frowned.

"Not that tinpot wearing fool who travels with the warrior princess?"

Zeus fixed him with a level look as if to say 'seriously'

"That salesman friend of theirs then? The one who called himself Lord Seltzer?" Hades said, grasping at straws.

"By Olympus no." Zeus laughed.

"Then who?" Hades said, a perplexed look on his face. Zeus cast a glance toward the spilled water from the scrying bowl.

"The one who started all this. The one who first shed the blood of a god."

Hades eyes widened as Zeus spoke.

"You can't mean..." His voice trailed off as Zeus nodded.

"Oh but I can, and I do," he said with knowing smile. "She started this. It seems only fitting that she be the one to bring it to a close."

"But the dagger... she's gone. Like the one she killed."

Zeus laughed at that.

"Really brother? You think I don't know how much you've wanted her?" he said. "There are few who've escaped your clutches once and even fewer who have done so twice. It's a point of pride and the viewpoint of any good jailor to reclaim their wayward charges." He crossed to the other up turned chair and righted it, before settling himself across from Hades.

"We need her brother. Our enemies will not expect her and I know that you have her."

"Say that what you are suggesting is true," said Hades defensively. "Say that I did pull her to me and have locked her away amongst the deepest pits of Tartarus, why would I offer her up to you? The woman is a danger to all things that live and breathe. She has no morals and no heart. She deserves her punishment here, and I will make sure it is most severe."

"That is where you are wrong," Zeus said. He leaned forward earnestly as he did so. "She can be so much more than you imagine and she has a heart, buried deep though it might be. Without one she would never have felt so much pain so keenly."

Hades let out a low deep sigh and tilted his head back to regard the total blackness that hung above them both.

"The odds aren't in our favour are they?" He said.

"Not in the least. But then they never were."

"And she is our only hope?"

Zeus nodded.

"And a slim one at that," he said.

Hades gave him a bitter look.

"Slim indeed," he said, his voice deadpan. He scrubbed a hand over his face and let out an exasperated groan.

"Very well," he said. "I will have her brought here."

He straightened and strode purposefully to his ruined throne, turning and seating himself in its remains, suddenly every inch the Lord of the Underworld.

"I warn you though, should she fail she will be mine to toss to Cerberus as a dinner time treat."

Zeus gave the barest of nods.

"Should she fail, there will be little of your, or for that matter any of our kingdoms remaining," he said grimly.

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:** Some fifteen years ago I saw the episode Return of Callisto and immediately fell in love with the character. I proceeded to write my first piece of fanfiction. What started out fairly simply as a desire to tell more stories featuring Callisto became an epic that spanned six or seven stories. I was exceedingly proud of it and parts of it can still be found floating around the web if you do a google search. For a long time I was away from fanfic and have only recently begun writing again. Bits and pieces and none of them finished unfortunately. However upon going back and looking at what remains of my old Callisto stories (through the aforementioned google search as the original files were unfortunately lost years ago) I felt a twinge of embarrassment. While I still feel proud for what I achieved back then they are clearly written with a teenage perspective of the world, and of how to write fiction. To adult eyes they feel somewhat trite and overly melodramatic.

Now in my thirties I felt a desire to go back and revisit these stories with all the experience I have gained in the intervening years. I still have a tremendous soft spot for this character and writing them gives me a sense of nostalgia.

What you are about to read is a complete rewrite of my original Callisto tales that I plan to work through. To anyone who may have read them before the general thrust of the story will remain the same but a large number of details and motivations of characters will change. I have also attempted to tie the stories together better with a more consistent ongoing arc, where previously this element was somewhat ramshackle and often illogical.

One thing I have chosen not to do is change the point at which these stories begin. As such these stories represent an alternate take on Callisto's ultimate fate following season 3. These stories were originally conceived and begun post Season 3 but prior to season 4. I personally began to lose interest in Xena for a number of reasons following season 3 and felt that Callisto was poorly served in later stories. For this reason I have chosen to maintain these stories as an alternate universe piece. For those of you after some Xena, Gabrielle, Callisto interaction, unfortunately it won't be happening here. Callisto is very much the star of the show and I will more than likely not be featuring any characters from the show save some of the gods.

With all that said and done, I sincerely hope you all enjoy and I really hope to be able to stick with this to the end as it will be a very long road and my life is a touch busier than when I was sixteen.

**DISCLAIMER:** Obviously Callisto, Xena, Gabrielle et al are not my creations. They are the property fo Universal and Renaissance and being that I am posting here I clearly do not have legal permission to use them. These stories are intended purely as entertainment and are not intended to be redistributed without permission of the author. All original characters are the property of me, the owner.


	2. Chapter One: Fires in the Dark

**Chapter One: Fires in the Dark**

First there was pain.

It blazed hot and fierce in her gut, a pain so cruel and tormenting she could only curl into a ball and hope for it to fade. Her muscles ached and her teeth clenched, then unbidden she let out terrible scream that cracked her lungs and drove her voice hoarse.

And then as suddenly as it had come, the pain was gone, and all was peace and silence. Her body went limp and she felt herself floating, her mind finally still after so long with nothing but the pounding of rage and never ending ache of misery. She stretched out, luxuriating in the sea of calm upon which she was now cast adrift.

Then came the laughter, hollow and mocking. She opened her eyes but she may as well have not bothered. The view was the same, a total void with nothing but blackness surrounding her.

"Who's there?" she said.

The laughter grew louder. There was something disturbingly familiar about it. Her eyes strained as she tried to peer through the blackness, but it was about as much use as staring into a pitch night sky. There were no answers there.

"Who's there?" She said again, louder this time and trying to lend a fierceness to her voice she wasn't feeling.

The laughter paused for a moment, then a voice came echoing out of the nothingness. It had the same eerily familiar tone as the laughter and now it seemed to be coming from all around her.

"No one's there," The voice said, its tone first light and teasing and then rapidly changing to one of sneering disgust. "You're all alone, at peace, just like you wanted!" The voice cracked at the end and broke down into a fresh torrent of laughter. There was something else to it now, a cackling edge of madness that chilled her to the bone.

Suddenly something flashed bright in the blackness at the corner of her vision. Slowly, cautiously, she turned to bring it more firmly into view. It was a flame burning hot and strong and growing in intensity with each passing moment. There was another flare at the corner of her vision as another flame lit, followed by another, then another and another and on and on, until all around her a blazing inferno burned scorching and cruel. As the flames grew, the laughter grew with them until, like the fire, it was everywhere, tormenting and vicious.

"Who are you!?" She yelled desperately into the inferno, finally feeling that familiar spark of rage ignite inside her. "Tell me now or I will gut you where you stand!"

The laughter stopped suddenly as if cut by a knife. Then the voice spoke again, only this time it was coming from a specific point just over her shoulder. That same haunting familiarity turned her stomach.

"Oh no, no, no my dear." The voice gave a scolding tut. "We can't have that. We can't have that at all!"

She turned to face the source of the voice, and there it was! A dark silhouette moving through the flames as if immune to their touch. She watched horrified as the silhouette moved closer and closer until, finally, it emerged from the blaze. The firelight flickered and danced across the newcomers features, a narrow face with a slim nose, high cheeks and deep brown eyes that flashed with a cruel gleefulness. Thick blonde hair tumbled wildly about the newcomers head and shoulders and when they smiled the blood in her veins ran cold.

"After all," her mirror image said. "If you were to gut yourself, who'd clear up the mess?"

* * *

Callisto's eyes flew open, and she let out a pained gasp, her chest heaving as cool crisp air rushed into her in what felt like the first time in days. At first her breaths were huge lungfuls, the delicious feel of oxygen pouring through her limbs and into the tips of her fingers and toes. Slowly her head began to spin and she rolled weakly onto her side, chest still heaving, and let out a series of barking coughs that released a huge globule of crusted blood onto the floor. As the coughing fit subsided and her breathing began to return to normal, she turned over onto her back again. Slowly but surely she could feel life returning to her body, first with the furious beating of her heart, then a throbbing ache between her temples. Finally, sensation began to return to her and she shivered as a chill ran up her spine.

Cold.

She was lying on something cold. She dropped her hand to the surface she was spread out upon and felt the unyielding hardness of stone beneath her finger tips. She let out a long low groan. This hadn't been the deal! She was supposed to be done, gone, scattered through the ether like so much dust on the wind. Waking up on a cold stone slab with a throat full of clotted blood and a head that felt like an army of titans had just trampled over it had not been in the brochure!

Gingerly she tried to lift herself up, but the moment she lifted her head the room lurched alarmingly and she collapsed backward onto the slab. She gritted her teeth in frustration and tried to ball her hands into fists, only to find she could barely close them and almost certainly couldn't grip anything. She lay like that for a few more minutes, impotent in her frustration, the pulsing headache a constant reminder of how this most certainly wasn't the oblivion she'd thought she was going to when Xena had planted that dagger in her stomach.

After what she estimated to be another ten minutes of lying flat she tried again, this time more carefully, and breathed a sigh of relief when she managed to get as far as propping herself up on her elbows. She let her eyes take in the room in which she found herself. It was a decidedly uninteresting place, all dull grey stone and little else. The slab upon which she lay was the only noteworthy feature of the room beyond a solid looking door of wood with flaming sconces mounted to either side.

The first order of business was to get moving. Callisto seldom expected a friendly welcome, and those who were foolish enough to offer her one usually didn't live for very long afterward. She couldn't afford the risk of tarrying here for too long. Wherever this place was, she was already almost certain that she had no interest in meeting the landlords. Although now she thought about it, meeting them might be quite... therapeutic.

Cautiously she pushed herself completely upright only to notice she was missing her usual warrior garb. Instead she was clad all in a simple white shift, buckled at the shoulder by a copper clasp. She frowned as she slid her legs over the edge of the slab and her feet touched the stone floor. She had expected the same chill as the slab, but instead the stone of the floor was strangely warm. This did not bode well. Warm stone floors usually meant unpleasant fiery death lay beneath them, and having suffered through one such fiery death she had no wish to repeat it.

She pushed herself carefully into a standing position, flexing her toes as she straightened and then, when she felt sufficiently confident, she released her grip on the slab. Her knees buckled almost immediately and she collapsed in a heap on the floor, cursing loudly as she went.

"You may want to be more careful," said a voice from the other side of the slab.

Callisto's frown deepened. She could have sworn she had been alone in the room.

"Show yourself!" she snapped as she reached up and gripped at the slab, pulling herself into a sitting position with her back resting against it.

"I had no intention of hiding," said the voice, and suddenly Callisto could hear footsteps.

An old man stepped into view. He was dressed all in rich robes of silk and satin and a thick beard of silver seemed to be his most distinguishing feature, until Callisto's eyes met his. They were a brilliant blue, as clear as a perfect summer's day, but occasionally, almost like a trick of the light, their colour would shift and they became the furious grey of storm covered skies.

He knelt down in front of her, surprisingly spry for a man of his age.

"Welcome back among the living my dear," he said, the corners of his mouth twitching into a smile.

Callisto fixed him with what she hoped was her most fearsome stare. It was difficult to look fearsome when you felt as weak as a day old kitten.

"So I was dead?"

The old man nodded.

"Oh yes. That nasty little Hind's Blood dagger was most thorough, not to mention deep."

"Well that's just peachy," Callisto groaned.

She tensed her arms and tried to pull herself upright using the slab for support. The old man was at her side almost immediately attempting to steady her, but she pushed him away with as much strength as she could muster and he stepped back. Considering her current state it was more than likely out of courtesy rather than any real strength on her part.

"You really should try not to over exert yourself," The old man said. "Being dead really is a tremendous strain on the body's resources."

Callisto lifted a hand to her chest and raised her eyes in mock astonishment.

"And here was me thinking it would be like recovering from a nasty bout of the flu."

The old man smiled.

"Actually, they aren't much different."

Callisto's mock astonishment turned to dripping sarcasm.

"Funny." she said.

"I do try." the old man replied.

"I'd succeed," she shot back, then turned her head to look around the room again. It was strange but with the old man here, the room already felt somehow warmer and less oppressive than it had done. Despite her best efforts to remain on her guard she could feel the tension easing out of her.

"So are you going to tell me who you are? Or do you plan to leave me hanging in suspense? And just so you know, I really don't like being in suspense."

The old man straightened slightly and when he spoke the warmth had drained from his tone.

"If you are attempting to threaten me young lady, I would highly advise against it. I am Zeus, and at this moment you are in the Underworld. Hades' domain,"

The old god leaned in close to her.

"He is most eager to meet you again Callisto," he said.

Callisto felt the world drop out from under her, but somehow she managed to stay upright. How was she here again? Gods couldn't be sent to Tatarus. Could they?

"It was supposed to be oblivion," she said, her voice quieter now. "It's what I was promised."

Zeus let out a long breath and with it his whole demeanor turned, changing back to the kindly old man of just moments before.

"And so it would've been, but for us."

Callisto glared up at him from beneath her eyebrows.

"What did you just say?"

"We brought you here. Hades is most tenacious when his charges escape him. He's been coveting those lovely golden tresses of yours for quite some time I'm afraid."

"And you thought you'd lend him a hand?" She hissed.

She couldn't take it anymore. The rage she had been reaching for suddenly rushed through her like a floodgate opening. Without thinking she lifted her arm toward him, a long tapered finger thrusting accusingly as she willed the fire within her to burn him to ashes.

And nothing.

She raised her outstretched finger in front of her face and blinked at it perplexed. Zeus chuckled softly.

"I have other reasons for bringing you here Callisto, and unless you wish to spend eternity roasting those pretty toes of yours in the fires of Tartarus, I would suggest you spend more time listening to me and less time trying to char broil everything in sight."

"What have you done to me!" she cried. The fury inside her was dying as quickly as it had come, instead being replaced by a chill feeling of impotence that twisted in the pit of her stomach. "Where are my powers!?"

"Did you really think we would bring you here, place you in this tiny chamber in nothing but a night shift, and then leave you with the power to burn down the door and waltz right out?" Zeus said, his voice somewhat incredulous. "That would have been an exercise in futility. What was given can be taken away, and that is precisely what I have done."

This time her legs truly did fail her and she began to collapse back to the floor. Zeus was by her side again in an instant, and this time she didn't refuse his aid. Gently he eased her back until she was sitting on the slab.

"This..." she began, still feeling somewhat dumbfounded, "...this can't be happening."

"I'm afraid it is my dear," Zeus said, his voice becoming softer as he continued. "And the powers are the least of your concerns. Besides, you never really wanted them. They were a means to an end, and even then they failed you. All that power and rage, and yet here you are, still unable to find the peace you so desperately crave."

She couldn't take anymore of this. It was all too much to bare, and in too short a space of time. She sat for a while in silence, her mind racing. The burning anger and hatred that had fueled her for so long were elusive now, and without them she felt lost, cast to the not so tender mercy of fate with no defense against it. Finally she let out a long low breath.

"What do you want from me?" She said as steadily as she could manage.

Zeus gave her a warm reassuring smile.

"For now, simply to get you out of this dank little corner Hades considers fitting quarters and to get some food inside you. You would be amazed at the table my brother keeps. Not an ounce of sunlight down here, for obvious reasons, and yet he still manages the freshest dining this side of Mt. Olympus."

Slowly he helped Callisto to her feet and at his touch she felt that same warmth she had felt earlier moving through her. Her headache began to subside almost immediately and her muscles felt energised where previously they had been exhausted. The next moment she found herself taking her first faltering steps as Zeus lead her gently out of the door and into the realm of Hades.


	3. Chapter Two: The Long Game

**Chapter Two: The Long Game**

Outside, Callisto was surprised to find little difference to the chamber in which she'd just awoken. She had expected maybe the magma carved walls of the pits of Tartarus, or even just the bare tunnels of rock that riddled the rest of the Underworld. Instead all she saw was the same simple masonry as before, and like before, the tunnel was lit by flickering sconces. Unlike the chamber though, the tunnel was only partially lit. Each time they approached a wall sconce it would burst into life with a muffled thump of igniting flame, and as they passed and drew further from it, it would hiss and sizzle down to nothing, leaving only darkness in their wake.

She moved slowly for the most part, her aching legs barely able to manage much beyond a pained shuffle. All the time, Zeus walked patiently at her side. On the rare occasion she felt her knees weakening he was there almost before she even realised it, his calloused hands taking her firmly by the arm and holding her upright until she regained her strength.

"You know we'd be able to go a lot faster if you just did one of your little godly zaps and restored me to full working order," she said when he came to her aid for what seemed like the hundredth time.

Zeus merely shook his head.

"Much better if you recover naturally," he said. "The body can only take so much and it must respect the laws of nature."

And that was all that was spoken of the subject. They followed the corridor for what seemed like an age, occasionally rounding a corner or passing a branching section, but they never changed direction, never took a different turn, always moving straight ahead.

It was as they rounded another corner that Callisto's eyes widened. The tunnel suddenly opened up, its ceiling disappearing as they passed through an arch and out onto a wide rampart. Without thinking she stopped in her tracks as she caught sight of what lay beyond the rampart's edge. She was standing on the wall of a colossal fortress that sat grim and dark at the edge of the Underworld, its long shadow seeming to stretch in all directions despite the absence of a sun. All around, the Underworld was a vast cavern, its enormity like nothing she had ever witnessed. On her previous visits she had only traveled along the cavern floor, and the mind boggling size of it all had been lost on her. Sheer columns of rock linked the ground and the ceiling, and in places stalagmites and stalactites the size of mountains jutted fearsomely through the dim dusk light that seemed to be coming from nowhere in particular. The fortress itself was an enormous series of ramparts and buttresses that climbed the wall of the cavern like a gigantic series of steps. In the middle distance she could make out what looked for all the world like a great pastoral paradise. It shone in the dark like a beacon of rich greens and autumnal oranges lit with a perfect summer's golden evening sun.

Callisto found herself pressed up against the edge of the rampart for a closer look, her fingers closing over the cold fortress stone. They were somewhere down there, the family she had loved, the family she had lost. The family that had been taken from her. Her grip on the rampart's edge tightened as she began to lean forward. If only she could get closer. If only she could just reach out and...

She felt a strong hand on her shoulder, its touch gentle but firm.

"My brother's kingdom is most impressive when seen from on high like this," Zeus said, his voice matter-of-fact but still somehow gentle. "He is most proud of it."

Callisto sniffed, her eyes stinging slightly. She couldn't think of anything to say. With a great effort she tore her eyes away from Elysium and looked further beyond it. Further into the cavern she could make out a huge abyss torn into the cavern floor. It plunged deep and far out of sight. A terrible red glow emanated from it, and all along its length pillars of acrid black smoke rose high into the air. Up on the wall all was silence, but she could still remember the distant cries of anguish and torment. They haunted her as powerfully as Xena's war cry or the flames that had destroyed her home.

"Tartarus," Zeus said simply.

"I remember," Callisto replied.

"I know," said Zeus. He took her by the arm and began to lead her further across the rampart to where it re-entered the fortress.

"You showed me this on purpose didn't you," Callisto said. It was a statement and not a question.

"Of course," said Zeus.

"Why?"

"I have my reasons," was the only answer she received, and with that she fell silent as he led her back inside.

Callisto simply didn't know what to make of everything. Why was she here? What was this old fool trying to achieve bringing her to this place and showing her all this while at the same time trying to play so nice with her. Did he not know who she was, the things she had done, most specifically to his grand nephew? He was one family member less thanks to her. Then again, maybe he didn't like his family and this was some twisted form of thanks. Judging by what Callisto knew of the gods, she would not be surprised if that last thought proved to be the truth.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a low distant rumbling. For a brief moment it was just that, a distant bass sound vibrating in the stones. Then the vibrations became more severe, escalating into a series of mild tremors that managed to shake the whole fortress. Motes of dust drifted down from the ceiling in lazy circling motions and Callisto reached out to the wall to steady herself. The tremors were brief, subsiding quickly until all was still again.

She turned a hard stare on Zeus.

"Care to tell me what that was about?" she said, trying hard to keep her voice level. Anything that could shake Hades' own personal fortress was worth worrying about.

Zeus merely fixed her with a level stare of his own.

"That, my dear, is why you are here," he answered.

"You seriously think I can help you with something powerful enough to shake a god's summer home?"

Zeus shrugged.

"Why ever not? You have killed a god after all."

Callisto was about to object, then snapped her mouth shut. Instead she let a wicked grin spread across her face.

"Well now, how about that," she smirked. "I guess I did, didn't I."

Zeus just snorted in response and continued on his way.

They didn't have to continue much further. Soon the corridor opened up again and they found themselves at the top of a flight of stairs that led down into some kind of receiving room. For the first time Callisto could see something resembling furnishings beyond the wall sconces that lined the corridors. The room was sparsely appointed, but a number of wall hangings splashed in shades of red, copper and black depicted various scenes out of the history of the Underworld. The first hanging depicted the Titanomachy, the war between the ancient Titans and the gods. It showed the gods eventual victory and Hades' establishment of his Underworld. The furthest hanging from the entrance depicted Hades' nephew, Hercules, and his more recent journey into the lands of the dead after being poisoned by his own wife. Mounted in the center of the floor was a huge bronze relief worked with the same serpentine design as covered Hades' famous helm, and at the opposite end were a pair of huge doors fashioned from the same stone as the rest of the fortress.

"Come," said Zeus, leading her down the stairs and across the room. "I promised you a feast and one awaits us just beyond those doors."

Callisto felt a shiver run up her spine. Despite all her bravado, the Underworld was the only place she had ever been that truly unnerved her.

In front of her the doors began to open with a heavy grind of stone upon stone, and a welcoming light came spilling out followed closely by the sounds of laughter and merrymaking. It was the first sign of occupation that Callisto had seen since awakening on that cool stone slab.

As she stepped through the doors she had to stop her mouth dropping open at the sight before her. She had not known what to expect, but it most certainly had not been this. Zeus had not been lying when he had spoken of the feast. The dining hall was as colossal as everything in this grim and seemingly empty place, only unlike the rest of the fortress, it was filled with life and chatter. Three long tables, each surrounded by benches, ran the length of the chamber, each one parallel with the next. Along the benches sat at least a hundred people, talking, laughing, cheering and in some places singing drunkenly as they feasted on the most tremendous array of food Callisto had ever witnessed. The smell of it all was almost too much for her. her mouth watered at the sight of it and the rich banquet of scents and odours made her stomach growl and ache. For the first time, Callisto began to realise how incredibly hungry she was. Her hand twitched at her side as if to clasp itself across her belly, but she suppressed the urge as soon as it arose.

"A feast for the honoured dead," Zeus said to her. "My brother occasionally chooses to entertain those who have earned pride of place in Elysium. The refuse from tonight will be tossed to those in Tartarus."

Callisto winced. The memory of the slop that had occasionally been forced her way during her time in the Underworld was still all too vivid. The dead had no need of food, but the worm riddled gruel granted them was more part of the punishment than any kind of reward; just another form of torture and suffering. Seeing these pigs stuffing their faces made her stomach lurch uncomfortably.

At the far end of the room a fourth table even more luxuriously appointed than the other three had been set at a ninety degree angle to the rest. On one side ran an empty bench. Anyone seated on it would have their back to the rest of the feasters. On the opposite side to the bench were a row of high backed chairs, each one well cushioned in Hades' traditional crimson and black colours. The fourth table was empty save one seat in which Hades himself reclined. He was sitting slouched slightly to one side, his chin propped up by his gloved knuckles as he watched them enter. As Callisto slipped through the doors he lifted his gaze to meet hers and his eyes narrowed.

Behind her, Callisto heard the huge doors slam shut with a tremendous crack that cut through the hubbub of the hall and brought all eyes down upon her. A series of dark murmurs sprang up around the room at the sight of her. She straightened her back and squared her shoulders so that she could meet their suspicious glares venom for venom. She didn't think she recognised anyone in the hall, but clearly they recognised her, or at the very least had heard tell of her. Of course, if she thought about it, it was not entirely unlikely she may have sent a couple of them here herself.

At the other side of the room Hades straightened from his seat and raised his voice. It boomed throughout the room like the sound of a hammer on an anvil, his hands raised in a calming gesture as he spoke.

"My friends," he said. "Please return to your feasting. The Lord Zeus is here as my guest and we have much to discuss."

He shot a dark glance at Callisto.

"Pay his charge no mind," he continued. "She will not be dallying here for long. This I will make sure of."

A brief murmur of satisfaction went up around the room as Zeus began to make his way across the hall toward Hades' table. He turned and gestured to Callisto to follow him.

Taking one last look around the room, she spread her shift and dropped the best curtsy she could manage with her legs still shaking like new born spring lamb, giving the crowd of gawkers a devilish wink as she did so. She thought she heard a couple of low jibes tossed her way but chose to ignore them as she began to pick her way across the room until she reached the table just behind Zeus. Hades watched her suspiciously, the way one regards a cobra rearing to strike. She stood next to Zeus staring back at him with the best defiance she could manage. Finally, he lowered himself back into his seat, gesturing to the bench for her to do the same. She did so, and as she sat she propped her elbows on the table, lacing her fingers together and resting her chin atop them. She batted her eyelashes at him and grinned when he shivered. Looks like she still had the touch. She had been beginning to wonder if she'd lost it.

"Callisto," Zeus admonished her the same way one would a mischievous child. "Be polite to our host."

He had crossed to the other side of the table and was now seating himself next to Hades. The symbolism was clear. However kind he had been to her, it was obviously now her against them. She shrugged and dropped her hands to the table.

"Just taking my amusement where I can get it," she said, glancing meaningfully around the rest of the room. "There's precious little of it to be found in here."

"You should eat something," Hades said, his steady gaze unwavering. "You look terrible."

"I should imagine so," she replied, looking to Zeus. "I am reliably informed being dead will do that to you."

Zeus let out a soft chuckle as Hades gave an exasperated sigh.

"Now you know why I wanted her kept here," Hades said imploringly, turning to face Zeus as he did so. "It's like trying to talk with a viper. You'll get little in the way of intelligible discussion out of it, and when all is said and done, the thing's more likely to bite you than not."

"Hades, my dear!" Callisto said, trying her best to sound innocent and succeeding magnificently. "If you'd wanted me to bite you, you need only have asked!"

Zeus rolled his eyes.

"Enough, the pair of you," He snapped. "We have much to discuss and little time to do so. Callisto, eat something. It will do you the world of good and Hades is right incidentally. You do look dreadful."

Callisto flashed them one of her impish smiles as she reached out for a nearby bunch of grapes. She plucked a particularly succulent one from its stalk and placed it daintily in her mouth, chewing slowly and deliberately. She had to try hard not to groan at the explosion of sensation on her tongue, the heady taste making her mouth moisten considerably. Eventually she forced herself to swallow and smiled again.

"There," she said smugly. "Full as an egg."

The effect was only ruined slightly by her stomach grumbling loudly from beneath the table. Hades let out another pained sigh and Zeus gave a deep rich laugh.

"I don't know Hades," he chuckled. "I like her. She's got fire in her."

Hades glanced at him.

"That's what worries me," he said.

For the briefest moment a vague half formed memory of her own sneering face leering at her out of a blazing inferno formed unbidden in the back of Callisto's mind. She did her best to push it down, to bury it, but it unnerved her nonetheless.

The room fell silent as another tremor similar to the one that had come before set the various goblets, bowls and dishes clattering on the table tops. A few of the sconces in a corner of the hall flickered then went out, casting that corner and all within it into shadow. The people seated there began to stir uncomfortably, and for the first time Callisto noticed the hairs on the back of her neck begin to stand on end as a definite chill settled over the room. She glanced over to Hades and Zeus and was surprised by what she saw. Zeus was watching Hades, who sat perfectly still, his eyes open but far away in rapt concentration. The tremor began to ease and the shadow in the corner passed away as the sconces flared back into life. Hades visibly sagged in his chair, his eyes returning to the present, a look of extreme weariness filling them.

"Okay," Callisto said, her eyes flicking back and forth between the two gods seated opposite her. "Enough fun, games and delicious fruit."

"What are you babbling about now?" Hades said from where he slumped in his seat.

"You didn't go to all this trouble pulling me from edge of oblivion, which I might add, I didn't want in the first place," she said pointing a finger accusingly at Zeus. "Or bringing me here and giving me a guided tour of all the finest sights only to drag me into this feast hall to wine and dine me. Now tell me, what do you want with me. What's with these earthquakes and what do they have to do with me?"

"Everything." Hades snapped, his voice suddenly vicious. "Everything is down to you! You who played with fire like a child handed his father's sword. You who meddled with forces you didn't and could never understand! And all for what? Some petty revenge and then a suicidal quest for oblivion? Better that Xena had succeeded and shattered your soul into a million pieces to be scattered in all the corners of the world. At least then we would be free of this farce!"

"My my," Callisto's tone was all sarcasm. "Someone rolled out of the wrong side of Tartarus this morning."

Hades threw up his hands in exasperation and clambered out of his chair, pacing angrily back and forth.

"You see! You see! She simply is not capable of comprehending the gravity of the situation. All that effort wasted! And for what? So that we can sit here and trade insults with this murdering harridan?"

"Then explain it to me!" Callisto snapped, suddenly irritated and caring not a jot that she was a mere mortal facing down the Lord of the Underworld. "Tell me! And use small words."

"You killed Strife," Hades sneered at her. "You did the impossible, the unthinkable, and succeeded in killing a god. It was a hammer blow to the balance! Then with no regard for the consequences you went and got your own godly behind stabbed too! And with that same cursed Hind's Blood of all things!"

Callisto folded her hands together and gazed down at them guiltily

"I... I don't know what to say," she said, then looked up at Hades and pulled an apologetic face. "Whoops?"

Hades clapped a hand to his forehead and groaned.

"Olympus save us," he moaned.

Zeus leaned forward, looking Callisto squarely in the eye as he did so.

"What my brother is trying to say," he began, casting a glance at Hades, "in is own inelegant way, is that gods are not meant to die the way yourself and our grand nephew did."

Callisto frowned at him, genuinely confused.

"What do you mean?"

"That we are simply not meant to die," Zeus explained. "At least not without a replacement. When we are born, we occupy a... a..." he struggled for the words. "A place, if you will, in the natural order of things. Responsibilities are given unto us that are ours to maintain for as long as we are worshiped and vital. These responsibilities define us, shape us into the figures you see before you. Over time we will fade, our worship will fail, and then another will step forward to take our place. That is the way of gods Callisto. When you killed Strife, and then when you yourself were killed, there was no replacement, no new power to maintain the balance you had skewed. A hole was created in the natural order of things, and boundaries that are maintained for the good of all were damaged."

"What boundaries?" Callisto said, a feeling of genuine interest causing her to listen with rapt attention.

"The boundaries between your world and mine." Hades said. "Strife was the crack in the dam. You were the fissure. You've opened a tear in the Underworld that I am doing my best to repair."

"And the earthquakes?"

The two gods glanced at each other briefly.

"A side effect," Zeus said with a dismissive wave of his hand.

Callisto eyed him suspiciously. She had spent a large portion of her adult life watching people beg for their lives and promise her all manner of riches and prizes should she only be merciful enough to spare them. She had always been able to tell the lies from the truths and the half truths. Not that it had made much difference to most of her victims. She felt a strange pang in her stomach at that. It wasn't hunger; she was fairly certain of that. It faded fast but whatever it had been, she didn't like it. Either way, Zeus and Hades had just lied to her, or at least failed to tell her the whole truth.

She folded her arms across her chest and regarded Zeus levelly.

"It sounds like you have it all in hand, so the question remains. Why me? What am I here for? From the sounds of things, dear Hades over here would love nothing more than to throw me into some deep dark pit and do his best to forget I ever existed."

"He is merely a little overzealous in his responsibilities," Zeus replied.

Hades planted his hands on his hips and glared at Zeus but said nothing.

"In truth, he is as well aware as I that we need you." Zeus continued

"For what?"

"A champion." Zeus said.

Callisto laughed.

"A champion? Me? Of the gods? I think you should take lessons in humour from your brother here," she gestured toward Hades. "Compared to you he's a laugh a minute."

Hades' lip curled upward in a look of contemptuous disgust.

"I would never joke about anything so serious," Zeus said, his gaze utterly unflinching.

Callisto glared back at him, but no matter how hard she tried he wouldn't look away. To be honest she was hardly surprised.

"I serve no one," she spat finally.

"Who said anything about service?" Zeus replied.

"I believe that would be the definition of a champion," she said.

"In specific terms yes," Zeus said, leaning back in his chair, his manner now one of a skilled negotiator. "What I had in mind was really more of an informal contract. A verbal understanding so to speak."

"And why would I agree to anything you suggest of me?" she sneered. "The last I checked you and your dear brother here just put paid to my plans for a peaceful end to my suffering. You know what I want and our desires are not mutually compatible."

"Are they not? Do you not want peace?" Zeus said, fixing her with a look that seemed to cut right through her. "Freedom from all the horror and the pain, the sadness and the rage? Freedom from all that suffering?"

Callisto sat motionless, refusing to lower her gaze from those steady blue eyes that stared back at her with such complete stillness and calm.

"Yes," She said finally.

"And peace we can grant you," Zeus said.

"Fine," she unfolded her arms and leaned forward over the table, her face now mere inches from Zeus' own in an attempt to call his bluff. "Obliterate me, or have Hades here do it if it unmans you so, but don't dawdle. An eternity of nothingness is not something to keep a girl waiting for."

"Is that what you really desire?" Zeus asked.

Callisto's mouth opened to say yes, but then there it was, that same memory of her own face wreathed in flame and sneering darkly at her. As before she forced it away and opened her mouth to speak again, but the words wouldn't come and Zeus simply cocked his head knowingly at her.

"There is no peace in oblivion Callisto," he said softly. "And I think you know that."

Callisto scowled. Did she know that? Was that why she had been unable to answer? She cursed mentally, unable to decide.

"There's always Elysium," she said eventually. "Send me there."

Hades let out a laugh of genuine amusement.

"You are not dead Callisto. A guest in my house yes, but your heart beats and you breathe the breath of the living, unlike your fellows in here," he gestured expansively, taking in the rest of the room.

"Then kill me," she fired back at him. "I see plenty of kitchen ware in here. It may be dull, but it will do the job. I promise I won't put up much of a fight."

Again Hades shot her a look of contempt.

"And what have you done to earn a place in Elysium?" he said. "You are a murderer Callisto. A filthy butcher of men, women, children and gods. There is a debt of suffering owing on your soul and I will be the one to collect it."

Callisto turned to Zeus.

"Dramatic isn't he," she said.

Zeus smiled.

"Indeed he is," he said. "He does however have a point my dear. Work for us, achieve what we set you to, and Hades here will guarantee you a place amongst the honoured dead of Elysium. He may even let you feast at these tables."

He shot a glance over his shoulder toward Hades.

"Won't you brother?"

Hades gave the barest of perceptible nods.

Callisto let out a frustrated sigh. She was in an unworkable position and she knew it. She seriously doubted she was their only option, and better to take what they offered and have the chance of achieving a peaceful afterlife in Elysium than the alternative. She gave Zeus a sideways look.

"Fine, Fine," she said throwing up her arms in surrender. "Elysium's the carrot and I'm the donkey. You guys have yourselves a champion."

Zeus leaned back and clapped his hands together, rubbing them vigorously in satisfaction.

"Excellent, excellent my dear," he said. "I can assure you now, it is a decision you will not regret."

Callisto cocked an eyebrow at him.

"That's why you took me up to the ramparts isn't it," she said, her voice stripped of its usual anger and biting sarcasm, now reduced only to weariness. She suddenly felt very tired and alone, but then, hadn't she always been alone?

"You knew how this was going to play out, didn't you," she finished.

"My dear Callisto," Zeus smiled. "I would not have lasted so long as King of Olympus if I weren't capable of playing the long game."


	4. Chapter Three: Rememberances

**Chapter Three: Rememberances**

Callisto spent much of the next week in the fortress while she recovered from her brief stint of death. Despite Hades' disdain for the idea, Zeus had insisted she be treated as an honoured guest of Hades' house, and afforded all due courtesy befitting one of such status. She had not complained, especially given that Hades had ensured her chambers possessed a particularly fine view of Tartarus and at what passed for night in the Underworld, its dull red glow reached even her window, making it difficult to sleep. When she did manage to surrender to it, her rest was fitful and plagued by nightmares of which she could remember little upon waking, save for the haunting images of flames and her own wicked grin.

More than once, when her nights were particularly restless, she would find herself wandering the ramparts of the fortress and gazing down across the cavern floor to distant Elysium and its everlasting summer. Her mind would drift during those long watches of the night, back down through the years to what seemed like the equally endless summer of her childhood. She remembered Alazar the traveling merchant from a distant land, and the time she and her sister had stolen one of the strange fruits he sold to those wealthy enough to afford them. They had hidden in the apple grove just outside town, pulling faces at the strange bitter skin and sour taste of the fruit inside. Their mother had found them of course. She always seemed to know where to look for them whenever they were getting into trouble. Callisto's punishment had been to fetch and carry for Aledus, the village blacksmith, for a week. She remembered that time well, watching him work swords for Alazar's hired guards. She remembered the stink of the forge and the heat of the fire, the white hot glow of steel and the ringing doom of Aledus' hammer. Every day she had heard it, that heavy crash of metal upon metal. Then at the end of the week that same clash of metal upon metal had been punctuated by the screams of the dying and despairing as Xena's army had thundered through the village. She tried to turn her thoughts to other, happier memories, but the downward spiral had begun and each time she tried, the memory turned bitter and cruel, coursing through her veins like wild fire.

She stopped visiting the ramparts after that.

Her days were largely filled with little save for exercise and attempting to recover her former strength. She would spend hours jogging the corridors and as the days wore on and her stamina increased, she began practicing her flips and acrobatics. On one occasion, Hades found her performing a one handed handstand atop a column of six chairs she had balanced on top of one another. She had flashed him a wink as she vaulted out of the handstand and performed a double somersault before she lighted gently upon the cobbled floor. Hades had merely headed for the door shaking his head.

"Just clear up when you're done," he said, and with that was gone.

She didn't see him again for days afterward.

In truth she did not see many people about the fortress. Hades' servants would come to her in her chambers to bring her food and tend to any other needs she might have, but in her wanderings around the the long corridors and vast empty halls she was amazed by how deserted the place seemed. She rarely bumped in to servants during her meanderings and when she did they would often hurry in the opposite direction, clearly trying to avoid her.

It was one day toward the end of her stay that the girl came to her chambers. She arrived in the early evening carrying a steaming a bowl of water and hot towels. The first Callisto knew of her arrival was a polite cough at the door. She turned and regarded the girl levelly, trying to hide her surprise at the girl's appearence. She was a pretty little thing, petite and strawberry blonde. Her head was down turned, keeping her eyes averted from Callisto's.

"Yes?" Callisto said expectantly.

"I..." the girl began, then stopped, licked her lips nervously and started again.

"I am here to wash your feet mistress," she said.

Callisto looked her up and down. No doubt about it. The girl resembled Gabrielle. The hair was the biggest similarity but the girl's figure was also remarkably close to Xena's pet bard.

"Did Hades send you to me?" she asked.

The girl gave the slightest of nods and the water in the bowl she was holding rippled as the girl's hands shook.

"He said you would require my services,"

Callisto's lip curled. So Hades thought he could play games with her did he? Well he wasn't the only one with skills at manipulation. She slid languidly into the rooms single chair and hooked one leg over the other, her foot dangling in the air. Slowly she began to rotate it from the ankle down.

"Well come along then," she said. "We don't want that water to go cold now do we?"

Obediently the girl shuffled over to her then knelt by Callisto's outstretched foot. She dipped the towel in the scalding hot water without so much as a flinch. Callisto eyed the girl's hands. There wasn't so much as a burn or even blemish to be seen.

"You're one of Hades' honoured dead aren't you deary." Callisto said.

The girl shook her head as she rang out the towel until it was merely damp and no longer soaking wet.

"Not honoured mistress," the girl said. "Only dead."

"Then why do you serve in Hades' fortress?" Callisto asked. "I thought only the honoured were permitted here."

"The Lord Hades took pity on me mistress," the girl replied. "I was killed in an attack on my village, but the rest of my family survived. I was alone and weeping after I was cast from Charon's boat and standing at the gates of the Underworld. My Lord took me in his chariot and brought me here. I have served him well ever since."

"How magnanimous of him," Callisto jeered.

The girl's shoulders began to tremble and she sobbed quietly as she continued to rinse Callisto's feet, her eyes always on the floor.

"Tell me something," Callisto continued. "Is it a full afterlife you have here? This eternal servitude he has placed upon you? Do you think it kind? Merciful?"

"What would you know of mercy?" the girl snapped sharply, her humility finally breaking.

"So you do have a spine after all," Callisto said. "So then my dear, what unfortunate thing delivered you into Hades' tender mercies?"

The girl razed her head now, her tear streaked face blazing with a hatred so fierce Callisto was taken aback by it.

"You did!" the girl snarled and leaped to her feet tipping the bowl over and sending scalding hot water cascading over Callisto's foot. Callisto hissed in pain as the girl ran for the door in tears. She flung it wide and there, hand raised to knock was Hades, his cloak wrapped all about him like some living shadow. His eyes narrowed at the scene before him and he dropped his hand to the girl's shoulder.

"Easy child," he said. "Tell me what happened here?"

The girl lowered her gaze to the floor tiles again and shook her head.

"Please my Lord, I have tarried here long enough. I have other chores I must be about."

Hades eyes flicked to Callisto and then back to the girl. He gave her shoulder an affectionate squeeze.

"You have my leave to go," He said.

"Thank you my Lord." The girl said and hurried off out of view.

Hades turned back to glare at Callisto darkly. She simply leaned back in her chair, her pose defiant.

"Nice girl," she said, trying hard not to let the shock of what had just taken place show. "Lots of zest."

Hades stepped fully into the room, closing the door behind him as he went.

"Her name was Eve before you sent her to me," he said.

Callisto rolled her eyes.

"Alright then," she shot back. "I'll indulge you in your petty little emotional manipulation. Who was she?"

"No one important," Hades replied. "Just a farmer's daughter who had the misfortune to have been sent to market by her mother the day your army streamed through it. Her bad luck didn't end their though. You took an instant dislike to her. It was the colour of her hair that did it, for obvious reasons. Just another victim Callisto, like so many others you have sent to me."

For the first time facing Hades, Callisto couldn't think of anything to say.

"Her parents grieve for her, as you once grieved for yours and as all grieve for their loved ones," Hades continued. "You do not have the monopoly on loss Callisto. You never did, and your pain is no greater than theirs. You are nothing special, just some twisted, broken, black hearted creature who my brother seems to have taken a perverse fascination with."

There was a time when his words would have been nothing to her, but now they struck hard, each one twisting in her gut like the knife that had killed her.

"Then why am I here?" she asked.

"Because like you, I owe a debt that I can never fully repay. Mine is to my brother, and for that reason I tolerate you in my home."

He produced a package of waxed paper from the folds of his cloak and tossed it onto her bed before turning and making for the door.

"Your time here is done," he said as he opened it. "You leave tomorrow at first light."

With that he stepped through the door and closed it silently behind him.

Callisto sat for a moment longer, still dumbfounded by what had taken place. The hate in that girls face... the fire in her eyes... She felt a shudder run up her spine, and that strange pang in her stomach she had first felt after awakening here. The girl would never have peace. Her entire time in the Underworld would be spent in service to Hades, and all because of her blonde hair.

Callisto sniffed and got to her feet, crossing distractedly to the package. Carefully, as if handling a live adder, she reached out and began to tear open the paper. What lay before her was neither a particularly surprising nor welcome sight. Lying there on the bed, in the center of the ruined remains of the paper, was her old leather battle gear, apparently none the worse for wear despite its journey into the Underworld with her.

"A champion of the gods," she muttered bitterly to herself.

Without thinking, she reached down and scooped the outfit off the bed, tossing it unceremoniously to the floor and clambering on to the matress before blowing out the candle on the end table. The whole room was immediately plunged into darkness save for the dull red glow of Tartarus at the window.

She tucked her knees up to her stomach and wrapped her arms tightly around them, rocking herself gently back and forth as she tried to hold back that same creeping feeling in her stomach. As her eyes grew accustomed to the dimness, she could still make out her battle gear where it lay in a heap on the floor. She wanted to look away but could not. It seemed to stare back at her, stark and taunting in the dim half light.

Unable to stop herself any longer, she let out a choked sob. Her shoulders shook and she sniffed quietly as more tears came. She lay there for a long time, alone and weeping in the dark.

* * *

The next morning Zeus was standing at the edge of the Underworld, a thin veil of mist rolling in from the Styx and giving everything a hazy indistinct look. The edge of the Underworld was ultimately, like much of Hades' domain, somewhat stark and lifeless. It took the form of a flat rocky plateau raised some hundred meters above the Styx which gurgled and bubbled ominously below. Its putrid waters filled the air with an unpleasant odour that made Zeus' godly senses ache for the cleanliness of Olympus. A simple dirt track wound its way off into the mist, a highway to Hades' realm proper. Running in the opposite direction toward the Styx, it slanted into a downward slope until it came to the bottom of the hundred meter drop and finished at a ruined archway that lead out onto an ancient dock of moldering wood.

Below him, Zeus could hear Charon, the irascible old boatman charged with delivering the souls of the dead into Hades' grasp. He was muttering and cursing as he tied his boat to the moorings. Zeus did his best to ignore the muffled griping of Charon and his latest cargo of souls as the truth of their situation began to dawn on them. He could hear muttered protests, wailing of despair and in some cases even quiet resolve as Charon began to herd them up the slope and onto the highway.

In the distance he heard the sudden crack of a whip and the braying of horses. They were on their way. He had not been back to see Callisto in the week since she had been salvaged from her near brush with complete destruction. That did not mean that he had not been watching however. He had seen her gradually growing despair and the strange manner in which she was attempting to deal with it. Even with all that she had done, all the horror she had inflicted upon those around her throughout her life, he still managed to feel a stab of pity for her. Despite Hades' protestations to the contrary the previous night, hers had not been an easy life. She had ever been a tool of others, never truly free but always enslaved to the whims of those who would use her for their own causes. And here he was, about to bind her to him and send her into the world on a labour he was unsure she would survive, neither physically nor spiritually.

He gave resigned sigh.

If only things could be different. If only he could truly offer her the peace she desired, and not simply dangle it in front of her like a worm on a hook. His need was too great however, and as happened to great people, sacrifices for the greater good were now being demanded of him.

He straightened at the clinking sound of copper coins behind him as Charon shuffled up next to him.

The deformed old creature leaned heavily on his barge pole and cast Zeus an appraising look. Unlike many of the other Olympians, Zeus had always liked Charon. His lack of deference and protocol always made for entertaining conversation. He was singularly unimpressed with the opulence of Olympus and its denizens, preferring instead to keep to his boat and his fetid river.

"So where are they?" he said brusquely. "I have a schedule to keep to down here and I'm already behind. Some weird religious sacrifice in Carthage dumped an extra hundred souls on my dock this morning. The Fates never even told me they were coming. Last thing I need is for Hades to be taking the scenic route if I'm gonna reach my quota at the end of the day."

Zeus felt a chill run down his spine at that. Their enemies were already moving. He just hoped the boundaries would hold that little bit longer. Long enough for Callisto to do what had to be done.

"I'm sure they are just taking in the sights," he replied, doing his best not to show his worry. Charon may have been vile and uncouth but he was also shrewd and incredibly dangerous in his own morbid way.

"Callisto seemed quite taken with Elysium," he continued, trying to sound conversational.

Charon snorted at that.

"Hades will never let her near it," he said.

Zeus gave a non committal shrug.

"Never say never."

Charon gave another derisive snort.

"The broad probably just wants to watch the place burn," he grunted. "I remember the first time I brought her here. She actually spat in my face. Did I never tell you that story before?"

"I believe I dimly recall it," Zeus lied

"Yeah well, never thought I'd see the day I was ferrying her back out of here."

Zeus nodded in agreement.

"These are strange days indeed," he said.

"You're telling me," Charon said with a nod. "When Hades brought her to the far dock in person earlier this week I nearly had a heart attack. She was all deathly pale and looked to be on the verge of death. Never thought a boat ride with her would be so quiet."

Zeus remembered her appearance all too well. He too had been surprised by how pale and apparently frail she had been. He had never imagined that her near death and subsequent resurrection would take quite so much of a toll on her. In truth he had not wanted to leave her recumbent for so long, but having seen the state of her he had felt he had no other choice.

"I believe she had a brief spot of death, but now she's doing much better," he said trying to force a note of levity into his voice.

Charon gave a deep croaking laugh.

"That girl's been dead more times'n a cat on its ninth life," he said. "Daresay I'll be ferrying her back this way before too long."

"Would that that is unnecessary," said Zeus, turning back to gaze into the mist.

"Soft spot for her 'eh?" Charon chuckled but Zeus ignored him.

The loud whinnying of horses was almost on top of them now. As if on cue, a huge chariot decorated with Hades' signature bronze serpents burst through the mists. Inside it stood Hades and Callisto. The huge pitch black horses that pulled the chariot reared up, snorting wildly, their front hooves raking at the air as Hades reined them in.

Zeus took a step forward, raising his hand in greeting as he did so.

"Good morning!" he said cheerfully as the two of them dismounted.

"Morning certainly," Hades said, patting one of his steeds on the neck as he passed it. The animal's agitated stamping and snorting stopped almost immediately at Hades' touch. Instead the horse now stood calm and still.

"I don't know whether one could call it good or not though," Hades continued, casting a glance back over his shoulder toward Callisto.

Zeus followed his gaze. The warrior woman looked much improved from their previous meeting. She was clad all in her old warrior gear, and much of the colour had returned to her skin. Her thick blonde hair that had before been so limp and lifeless had regained much of its wild untamed character. He was amazed at how much it added to her, and likewise, how much it took away in its absence. She still did not appear to be fully recovered though. Her eyes still carried that vaguely haunted look he had seen in them upon her first awakening and dark shadows still hung beneath them, mute testimony to her lack of sleep.

He had found himself wondering much about what she had experienced in that brief time between the Hind's Blood dagger ending her life and Hades managing to save her soul as it had plunged toward oblivion. So far the answers he had come up with were less than satisfactory.

"And how are you today my dear?" he said as she stepped up to him.

"Your brother likes to make an entrance," she said simply and then glanced at Charon.

"And you look as disgusting as always," she said.

Charon's knuckles tightened around his barge pole.

"Be careful missy," he sneered at her. "The river's wide and the current's fast. I'd hate to see you go overboard. Chances are we'd never see or hear from you again."

Callisto flashed him a toothy smile.

"Well I'm sure my dear Hades here would dive in to save me. He really is very fond of me you know."

Zeus looked over to Hades, who simply rolled his eyes and ignored her.

"Well come on then, if you truly are comin'" Charon muttered as he turned and shuffled off back down the slope toward the waiting boat.

Zeus and Callisto fell into step behind him, Callisto wrinkling her nose against some pungent odour as they walked.

"I forgot not to get downwind of him," she grunted, motioning toward Charon.

Zeus only smiled.

"He's not so bad," he said.

Callisto glanced at him out of the corner of her eye.

"You don't have to share the ferry with him," she said, and the two of them continued on in silence for a time.

"So what's the plan then?" she asked as they began to near the bottom of the slope. "Any hydras for me to slay? Golden fleeces to find? Labours for me toil in service of?"

Zeus shook his head.

"Nothing so grandiose my dear," he replied. "With the natural order of things skewed so severely toward chaos, the land is being plunged into turmoil. Your task is merely to restore order in whatever way you can. Tilt the scales back toward balance if you will."

Callisto frowned at him.

"Don't take me for a fool old man," she said as they stepped onto the dock. "I know you and Hades have not told me everything. I remember the shadow in the feast hall, and it was more than just the weird natural order, mumbo jumbo, hoo haa that you are trying to make it out to be."

She drew up next to Charon's ferry, a dark foreboding thing seemingly constructed from the same terminally rotting wood as the dock, and turned to Zeus.

"There's something else going on out there isn't there," she said and nodded back in the direction of the Underworld. "Something none of you are telling me about."

Zeus shot her is best look of wounded pride and honest 'I don't know what you're talking about' expression. After spending so long married to Hera he had almost got it down pat.

"My dear Callisto, I have absolutely no idea what you mean," he said as innocently as he could manage.

"Be that way then," she said as she clambered down into the ferry.

Charon wasted no time, pushing off with his pole almost immediately and beginning to steer them out into bubbling waters of the Styx.

"But remember this!" she called to him as the distance between them grew greater. "If I die on this little errand of yours, and you don't send me to Elysium, I'm going to be calling you a deal welsher as they throw me into Tartarus!"

Zeus smiled.

"Be safe Callisto," he called back to her, "and try to stay out of trouble!"

She planted her hands on her hips in mock outrage.

"Hey!" she shouted over the water, "This is me we're talking about here!"

Zeus laughed and cupped a hand to his mouth as she began to approach the edge of earshot.

"Precisely my concern!" he yelled.

Callisto cocked her head to the side and stuck her tongue out at him. Then she, the ferry and Charon became lost in the mists that drifted lazily over the surface of the Styx.

He heard footsteps at his back and turned to find Hades coming up behind him. The Lord of the Underworld drew level with him and folded his arms across his chest, his gaze following Callisto's path into the mist.

"You were awfully hard on her brother," Zeus said.

"I said to her only what needed to be said," Hades replied and then turned to face Zeus. "Why didn't you tell her about the enemies we face, or the dangers she will encounter?"

"Because this is Callisto we're talking about here," Zeus said. "She needs time to find her feet, her own way through all of this. It is she who needs to make the choice to fight, not you or I."

"You are placing a lot of faith in her," was all Hades said in reply.

"That is because it is all I have to give," said Zeus. "Don't you have any faith left my brother?"

Hades said nothing. He simply turned and strode off back up the dock and into the gathering shadows.


	5. Chapter Four: Out on the Fringe

**Chapter Four: Out on the Fringe**

The boat ride over the Styx took less time than Callisto remembered from her previous visit, but thinking back on it, the boat had been laden down with other passengers on that occasion. Now the undulating currents caused the boat to creak and rock gently beneath her as Charon poled them through the river's murky waters, muttering to himself all along about schedules and the poor time keeping of the gods.

Callisto leaned back and did her best to enjoy the ride. It wasn't easy. Both Charon and the Styx itself smelled of centuries old mold and damp. It was a deep and unpleasant smell that made it difficult to concentrate. In an attempt to focus on something other than the stench, she turned her attention to the rhythmic plop, splash, plop, splash of Charon's pole as he pushed it in and out of the water. She watched him do so over and over again, her eyes beginning to glaze over as boredom overcame her.

Then, suddenly, she frowned. Something wasn't right. She studied the pole more closely. Roughly three fifths of the way down its length the colour of the wood changed, becoming darker and more water stained. Charon clearly always used the same end of his pole to push through the river. She watched the pole intently as it rose out of the water and dropped back in. The water stain was clearly above the surface of the river each time.

"Is the water shallower here or something?" she asked.

Charon looked back over his shoulder at her and paused his ceaseless poling for a moment. The boat drifted lazily on the current as he regarded her from beneath the heavy black hood he wore.

"Noticed that did you," he said finally, and began his poling again with a grunt. "The whole river level has been down this last week. Happens occasionally, but never for more than a day or two, usually when some great soul or other passes through. Most people don't like to die oddly enough. They struggle against it but over the boundary they cross regardless."

He gave a particulary hard thrust with his pole that caused the boat to shoot forward over the water. Callisto gripped at the bench she was sitting upon to avoid loosing her balance.

"Now the great souls we get, usually the ones with a direct link to the gods, oracles normally, but sometimes scholars, warriors and such; they tend to resist death all that much harder," he continued. "They hammer on the barrier, fight against it tooth and nail. Weakens the whole thing temporarily but it always recovers. Happened when you first came here too. I remember you kicked and screamed like a demon."

Callisto raised her eyebrows.

"Great soul," she said with a smile. "I like the sound of that."

"Yeah, well don't get too cocky. Most of those 'great souls' end up in Tartarus sooner or later. Rare for someone to do great in the world of the living without being deserving of punishment in the hereafter."

"The cynical boatman. Who'd have thought it," Callisto mocked.

"But I don't get it," she continued. "You said it only happens for a day or two at the most. Why's it been going on all week?"

"Hades told ya already. The boundry's weakenin'. Means great souls are on the move," Charon replied.

"Must be one mighty soul," Callisto said.

Charon did not reply. Callisto sat for a moment in silence.

"But if the boundary's weakening, why would that make the river shallower?" she said finally.

"The Styx is the boundary," Charon said.

Callisto only stared at him blankly. Charon sighed.

"Mortals," he muttered and turned, planting himself on the ferry bench opposite, his pole resting across his lap.

"Let me explain it to ya good'n slow, maybe then you'll understand and leave me in peace to row my boat. Y'see, truth of it is, we ain't really here," he gestured expansively to the river. "This ain't really a river, and I ain't really polin' you across it."

"Then where are we?" Callisto said, still confused.

Charon shrugged.

"Nowhere and everywhere at the same time, but mainly..." he reached over toward her. She flinched slightly at his touch but did not resist.

"...we're in here," he said tapping at her temple with surprising gentleness. "Y'see perception is king where the gods are concerned. All of this, the river, the dock, the fortress, Tartarus, Elysium, its all just different pieces of the same thing. Hades didn't build the Underworld, he just wills us to see it his way. It's a palace of the mind he built down here, same as the others do atop Olympus."

"So we see the boundary as the Styx. But if he wanted to, Hades could make us see it as a hundred foot high wall?" Callisto pondered.

"Now yer gettin' it," Charon said, leaning back in the ferry as he did so, a self satisfied smirk crossing his face. "Ain't metaphysics grand."

"Metawhat?" Callisto said.

The smile disappeared from Charon's face and he groaned.

"No wonder Prometheus had to show you people how to make fire," he grunted.

There was a slight thump and the boat came to a jarring halt, rocking sharply back and forth on the ripples of the river. Charon jumped to his feet.

"Looks like we've arrived, 'n not before time too. I'm never gonna get through my back log at this rate."

He slipped the mooring rope over the side of the boat and tied it off hurriedly while Callisto clambered off the boat and onto a dock that seemed even more fetid than the one she had boarded from. The mist from the Styx was thicker here. It rolled and swirled in great banks, sometimes thinning out to show clusters of boulders and the occasional stalagmite. Everything here seemed to be more in proportion with the world of the living. It lacked the colossal stature and outright gigantism that she had witnessed deeper into Hades' realm. The first time she had come through here, she remembered it being distinctly busier. There had been crowds of people waiting to cross to the far shore, all of whom had looked terrified as the boat had drawn up beside them. Charon had been his usual self, brusque and business like, and had ushered them on board with streams of profanity directed at those who dallied and kept him waiting. Now though, there was no one. All was silent save the lapping sound of the Styx against the river bank.

"Where is everyone?" she asked.

"Different dock," Charon replied. He glanced around, fidgeting slightly as he performed his checks.

"This is an old route. We don't use it anymore," he said.

"Why not?" Callisto asked turning back to him.

"Somethings are not for the ears of ones such as you," Charon remarked, his normally gruff voice changing suddenly. He sounded more powerful and commanding, every inch the ancient and immortal being he truly was, and yet she could see something else behind his eyes as well. She had become very accustomed to reading that expression in her victims. It was fear that gripped the boatman's heart.

"You'd best be on your way," Charon said. "Better not to hang around out here."

Callisto felt a chill run up her spine. Out of the corner of her eye she thought she saw a shadow twist strangely out of sight. She turned to get a better look but whatever she had spied had already vanished into the mist. By the time she turned back, Charon had already poled away from the dock and was drifting fast up river carried by a fresh current.

"Hey wait a minute!" Callisto cried after him. "How do I get out of here?"

"You ain't dead honey!" Charon called back. "The land of the livin' wants you back. Just keep walkin'. You'll be outta here before you know it."

With that the mist swallowed him and Callisto was all alone on the dock. She turned and started walking, the same sense of dread that Charon had clearly been feeling beginning to seep into her bones as well. She kept to a steady pace at first. Below her, the mist was beginning to pool around her ankles. She tried not to move so fast as to lose her footing on the dank floor, but at the same time not so slow as to hinder her progress.

Around her, shadows began to quicken in the depths of the mist, and a chill began to creep into the surrounding miasma that soaked through her in no time at all. She shivered and began to walk faster. The sound of the Styx had long since faded behind her, and now there was no sound at all other than the tread of her boots on the ground and even that was muffled by the slowly thickening fog. Out of the corners of her eye she spied the shadows, each one leaping, dancing and twisting ever closer as they crept in from all sides, yet when she turned to face them all was still and silent. Her pace was brisk now and before she realised it, it had quickened to a jog and then a run as the shadows continued to cavort madly at the edges of her vision. Her feet pounded the cold stone, the chill of the mist threatening to overwhelm her, and her breath rattled hollowly in her chest. For the first time in a long, long while, the first true hints of fear crawled and squirmed in her gut. Somewhere at the back of her mind a nagging sensation was telling her that to die here and now would be a fate far worse than the one awaiting her in Tartarus.

She barreled head long through the mist now. Occasionally she would slip and come crashing to her hands and knees, but it barely slowed her and she would be up and running as fast as her legs would carry her before even a moment was done. The shadows around her were beginning to lengthen too, like a thousand creeping fingers grasping eagerly at her heels. She squeezed her eyes closed and redoubled her efforts, her heart pounding wildly in her chest. Even with her eyes shut she could feel the shadows clawing at her. She opened her eyes and, despite every instinct she possessed screaming at her not to, she risked a glance back over her shoulder. Her eyes rolled wide at what she saw. A vast clawed hand of the blackest shadow shot out of the mists toward her, its massive talons curving in on her from all sides.

Callisto barely had time to cry out. Instead, she skidded to a stop, throwing herself to the ground in an attempt to pass under the claws, curling into a fetal ball for protection as she did so. It was a final desperate gambit. Without any real hope of escape, she gritted her teeth and waited for the end.

It never came.

For long moments she lay perfectly still, hoping that whatever doom was pursuing her had moved on. It was the cry of birds that finally made her uncoil her head from beneath her hands and look around.

There was no sign of dancing shadows or giant talons anywhere to be seen. Nor, for that matter, was there any sign of the Underworld. No mists or boulders, no dirty rivers or colossal fortresses. Instead she was lying on her side in a small forest glade, the early morning sun warm on her back. Above her a flock of seagulls wheeled in a pristine blue sky scattered with thin streamers of cloud. Cautiously she clambered to her feet, half expecting the ground to open up and swallow her at any moment.

A surge of relief passed through her when it didn't, and she let out a laugh of genuine triumph as she felt the tension in her muscles begin to ease.

"You can't beat me Hades!" She shouted to the trees, not entirely sure that what had just happened had even been Hades' doing, but not really caring either way.

"I'm back!" She yelled at the top of her lungs unleashing a week's worth of pent up frustrations in a single cathartic scream, "You can't stop me! You hear me! No one can stop me!"

Exhausted, she collapsed back to sitting, her legs still shaking from nerves. She took a long deep breath, the crisp clean air like nectar to soothe her weariness.

The surroundings reminded her of Elysium, and at that, thoughts of her family suddenly came flooding in from all sides. Their village had been surrounded by country like this.

"I'm back," she said again, softer this time.

She let out a deep sigh and got to her feet again. She couldn't just sit out here all day basking in the sun. Zeus had sent her back with a goal to accomplish, and much as she was loathe to be a puppet dancing on strings, she had little choice if she truly desired the reward of peace that Zeus was offering. She began to walk again, her boots already wet from the morning dew on the long grass of the glade. Before long, she had reached the treeline and was passing through the forest proper. She needed to find some sign of civilisation and soon. She had left the Underworld with nothing save her old leather battle gear. Hades and Zeus had provided her neither food nor weapons of any kind, and while she was confident in her survival skills and ability to live rough, she was fairly certain that 'Callisto, Warrior Hobo' with a mud streaked face and twigs in her hair was not the kind of champion Zeus had envisaged her being.

Not truly knowing where she was or which direction she was heading she angled south, placing the sun at her left side and keeping to the best straight line she could manage, deviating only when some natural feature such as a gully or outcrop of rock blocked her path. She had been walking for close to a half our when the trees opened up and a she found herself standing on a closely packed dirt trail running both straight east, and curving away to the southwest. There was no indication of where she was, or even a sign of habitation save the trail itself.

With a shrug, she decided to keep to her southerly route and turned right, her boots crunching on the bone dry dirt beneath her. At least it was a pleasant enough day, although hardly an inspiring one. She had always found herself more prone to the extremes of weather, and as a child she had loved to watch storms roll in from over the hills with the final light of day at their backs. Indeed even as an adult it had been one of the few pleasures she'd still managed to take from life, watching the raging wind and thunder echoing her own fury.

The track continued for some miles, and it was beginnng to approach midday with the sun now riding at its apex in the sky above. The trees had been growing sparser for the last half hour, and Callisto's suspicions that she was reaching the edge of the forest were proved right when she rounded a bend that carried her free of the tree line and she found herself gazing out over a quite spectacular view. She was standing high on a hill with the dark glinting blue of the ocean a good five miles to the south flashing in the noon time sun. It was the five miles between herself and the coast that caught her attention. The coastline appeared to be all sheer cliffs save for a huge basin carved into the coast itself in a crescent shape that seemed to run some two miles or so inland. The walls of the basin were strange, concave and almost akin to the walls of a crater rather than a true cliff face. They stood perhaps two hundred feet high and seemed to be made of clean white chalk. At the mouth of the basin the ocean met land in a sandy bar a good three miles wide, but the majority of the basin floor was covered by forest similar to the one she had just left. At the Southern edge of the forest she could make out small pillars of clean grey cooking smoke rising up, and just out to sea she thought she could faintly spy the flickering white of sails. Clear signs of a fishing village.

She began down the side of the hill, quickening her pace slightly to make better time, her feet kicking up small puffs of dust as she walked. On both sides of her the forest gave way to hillsides of rolling green grass and little else save occasional massive rock formations. The formations were strange, seeming somehow anachronistic in the landscape despite the various mosses and lichens indicating they had been their a for a ver long time.

The trail she was following forked at one such outcrop up ahead, continuing either south west or doubling back on itself, heading south east and, from what Callisto could tell, down into the basin and out toward the village.

It only took her a couple of minutes to reach the fork, and as she rounded the outcrop of stone she was surprised to find herself confronted by an apparently ancient doorway carved into its south facing side. Further up the outcrop's side windows had been carved, presumably to allow light to filter in from outside and save the need for candles during the daylight hours.

She had never seen anything quite like it before and her curiosity was piqued. She glanced up at the sky. The sun was still riding high and the village was not so far away that a short delay would prevent her reaching it before nightfall. Without another thought she crossed quickly to the doorway and stepped inside.

The door lead into a narrow passage only a few feet long and it quickly opened up into a much larger room that strangely grew wider the closer to the ceiling you came. From her position on the ground it looked to Callisto like the entire outcrop was hollow. She had been right about the windows too. Shafts of midday sunlight swimming with motes of dust shone into the chamber, casting light into even its darkest recesses.

Her mind flashed back to her blind sprint through the Underworld earlier that day and she breathed a slight sigh of relief that there were no shadows here to trouble her.

To either side of the room a number of columns formed cloisters along the chamber's edges. At the base of each column was mounted an angular bronze incense burner, each one roughly the size of a funeral urn and mounted with a heavy lid that could be closed to extinguish the incense when it was not in use. Callisto lifted her foot and opened one with the toe of her boot. From the dust heaped inside, she guessed that they had clearly not been used for years. She let the lid fall closed with a resounding clang.

Carved into the side walls of the cloisters were a number of smaller corridors, presumably leading to chambers or even crypts buried beneath the outcrop.

The chambers most interesting feature though, was mounted at the furthest point from the entrance. A large alcove had been carved into that far wall, and in the alcove sat a huge misshapen lump of stone, easily seven feet high and some five feet around. It looked to be of a part with the rest of the outcrops stone, to the point where Callisto assumed that whoever had hollowed out the outcrop had merely carved around this strange boulder rather than chisel it down to nothing and remove it.

She crossed over to the huge stone, and frowned. A number of fresh candles had been arranged at its base and lit recently. All were now burned down to little more than ugly stumps of red and yellow wax, but the general lack of upkeep around the rest of this strange temple made their presence all the more unusual. Callisto bent to examine them and began to lean against the lump of stone for support. She gave sharp gasp as her hand made contact with the stone and pulled it back rattlesnake fast. The stone was like ice to the touch, yet no frost or other sign of cold marked it.

"Huh," she grunted, studying the stone more closely but being equally careful not to touch it again should she lose half the skin on her palm in doing so. She could now see that roughly a head higher than her eye line, the small image of a sickle had been intricately worked into the stone's surface.

She was just about to stand on tiptoe for a closer look when the sound of distant shouts and the pounding rhythm of hooves drifted in from the trail outside. Quickly she span and made her way back across the chamber, pressing herself to the stone to one side of the doorway, peering down the corridor and into the glare of sunlight. Three men on horseback, each clad in ragged scraps of leather armour, were thundering up the trail from the southeast and toward the outcrop. Behind them was a more distant cloud of dust being kicked up by their pursuers, five more men in much more well maintained armour of bronze and leather.

Callisto's eyes narrowed. Unless her instincts were wrong, and they rarely were, the three men in the lead were bandits. Their ragged leathers marked them as accustomed to a life of hard living on the road, stealing where they could and killing when the stealing failed. Her own army had consisted of many such men, the kind to whom only violence and fear was a language they truly understood. The second group of men were gaining on their quarry fast, but were still a ways behind. She had to squint to make them out clearly, but they had the look and bearing of soldiers, probably mercenaries given the relative isolation of the area. She doubted any local king or warlord would send their men this far from civilisation.

The three bandits drew up at the trails fork, wheeled their horses in a cloud of dust and shouted panic and then booted them to a gallop again, fleeing northward up the hill and back along the trail Callisto had followed down from the hills.

The mercenaries arrived shortly after, their horses panting and lathered from the uphill sprint. One of the men, clad in the most elaborate armour and sporting a conical helm with a thick nose-guard and a peacock plume in its peak, gestured with his sword. Callisto grinned as she eyed the weapon with appraising eyes. It was a nice blade and one that had clearly been well maintained with an edge that flashed brilliantly in the golden sun. Two of his men gave a nod and urged their horses onward in further pursuit. The commander with the peacock helm wheeled his horse in a circle and then dismounted in a single smooth motion. The two remaining mercenaries did so as well.

"Check inside," he barked, his voice all stern authority. "There may be more hiding in there."

Callisto gave a soft curse as the two mercenaries nodded and started for the door. Hurriedly she ducked back inside, her eyes hunting desperately for a hiding place. While she had no memory of ever having raided around here before, she didn't want to take any chances of being recognised. She was, after all, somewhat infamous.

The chamber was depressingly spartan with no drapes to clamber or hide behind and the only other option she could think of would be to flee into the caverns beneath the outcrop, but she had the uneasy feeling that these mercenaries were about to do a very thorough job of searching this place.

Suddenly her eyes widened in understanding. She had it! She darted quickly through the columns to the side of the room and positioned herself between them and the wall. Bending her knees, she sprang straight up as high as she could and then splayed her legs and hands wide, bracing them against the wall and column as she did so. Firmly stuck a couple of feet above the floor, legs spread eagled, she began to scramble further up until her head was brushing against the arched roof of the cloister. Thoroughly secured, she let out a soft breath of relief as the mercenaries strode into the chamber, their hands resting confidently on the sword hilts at their hips.

The commander walked into the room behind them, his eyes sweeping over it and scoping out the various potential hiding spots. He gave another gesture with his sword and his two men split up, taking the opposite halves of the room between them. Fortunately for Callisto, the mercenary exploring her particular cloister failed to look up.

"Anything?" said the commander still standing by the door. His two men glanced at one another. The man beneath Callisto shook his head, and the man on the other side of the chamber turned back to address his commander.

"Nothing sir," he said, his voice all military formality. The commander nodded.

"Check the tunnels below," he said. "We've ferreted them out of their before. I'll remain here as rear guard should any try to slip past." The two men nodded again and disappeared into the corridors of their respective cloisters.

The commander stood alone for a moment, then reached up and removed his helmet. He puffed out his cheeks in a tired sigh and scrubbed a hand through thick close cropped black hair that was shot through at random intervals with flecks of grey. Slowly he began to circle the chamber, nudging at each incense burner with his foot as he passed.

From her vantage point Callisto could see only his legs as he crossed to the incense burner at the furthest corner of the room from her. Quietly and cautiously she bent forward, her body folding in a manner even an Olympian gymnast would be proud of. She craned her neck low, peering out from under the edge of the cloister and watching intently as the man tugged on the incense burner. The burner wobbled slightly and a conspiratorial smile lit the commander's face. He glanced suspiciously over his shoulder to the corridors at his back to make sure he was not being watched, then pulled a small but stuffed leather pouch from his armour. Callisto's ears pricked as the pouch clinked softly between his fingers. She knew the sound of dinars when she heard it. She continued to watch as he gingerly lifted the heavy lid and carefully placed the pouch inside. He was about to replace the lid when Callisto's foot slipped.

She bit off a sudden cry of alarm as her foot skidded on the dry stone. Instinctively she braced against the wall with her hand, arresting her downward motion almost immediately.

The commander had already heard the sound of leather sliding on stone however. Startled he dropped the lid of incense burner with a loud bang and an equally loud curse as the heavy lid gouged a large cut through his palm as it went.

Ignoring his palm, the commander drew his sword and span in Callisto's direction. He moved cautiously across the room, his sword extended in front of him, feet spread wide to give him greater balance as he advanced. It was a swordsman's pose.

"Who's there?" the commander said as he slowly crossed the room. "Come out and show yourself to me!"

Callisto bit her lip and held her breath.

The commander reached her cloister a moment later. At the same time she heard the clatter of footsteps in the tunnel at the other end of the room. One of the commander's men emerged, his own sword also drawn. The commander hushed him with a silencing gesture and nodded to the opposite end of the cloister to his own. The mercenary returned the nod and headed forward quietly. Meanwhile, the commander headed for his own end of the cloister.

Callisto continued to hold her breath.

The commander mouthed a countdown to his man, and on the count of one the two of them sprang into the narrow aisle beneath her.

Luck was with Callisto as again, neither looked up.

The two men shrugged at one another, clearly believing the sound to be nothing more than a dislodged stone or some-such and sheathed their swords, their posture already relaxing. Callisto tried hard not to release a sigh of relief.

The commander began to examine his sliced palm. Gingerly he lifted it to get a closer look, holding the damaged hand just below his eye line and prodding it gently with his thumb. He gave a sharp hiss of pain and dropped the wounded hand to his side, shaking it vigorously as if it would help to dispel the sensation.

Flecks of blood spattered to the stone floor, staining it dark crimson.

Somewhere in the chamber there was a crack of stone splitting and Callisto's eyes widened as a tiny tremor ran through the outcrop. It wasn't enough to dislodge her from her perch, but it sent a torrent of dust cascading down from the cloister's roof and over her face. Her nose twitched, tormented by the drifting cloud. She bit her lip tightly doing her best to hold back a sneeze. Slowly the dust settled and the itching in her nostrils faded.

She was just beginning to relax when, suddenly, a second sneeze exploded from her unexpectedly.

The commander's sword practically flew back into his hand and he was already taking steps back as he stared up at her, his mouth hanging open in stunned astonishment. His compatriot joined him a moment later, sword also drawn, his expression a mirror of his commander's.

Callisto flashed them what she hoped was a charming smile, lifted her free hand and waved.

"Hi there," she said. "You guys would not believe the day I'm having."

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: Music to Write By. **

To celebrate this story now having over a hundred views (not sure if this is an achievement but what the hey, I don't need a reason to celebrate) I thought I'd just add little note at the bottom here. While I write I tend to listen to music, picking out themes for certain moods or characters as I write them to help me get into the head space a little.

I recently discovered a bunch of tracks by Two Steps from Hell... and these things are awesome for trying to get into the epic mood I've wanted for this story. I want it to feel broad and expansive, 16:9 as opposed to 4:3. To anyone wanting to know what I'm talking about have a listen to their album 'NERO'. I generally listen to the full arrangement with the choirs singing. A couple of tracks that I've been honing in on are the titular track 'Nero', 'Am I Human?' and 'Disappear'. The best track on the album and the one that I think makes for an awesome Callisto theme however is track number 20 'Starfall'. It feels just right, starting out melodic and harmonies, then turning a little darker and percussive before finding what I think of as its hero refrain for the final minute or so. This track is pretty much the arc I am going for with these stories as I write them. How I get there though remains to be seen. The final track I am going to mention is actually from Danny Cocke, not Two Steps From Hell, and is called Fall of the Archons. This is dark seething piece and was what I was listening to a lot while I wrote the Tartarus stuff in prior chapters.

So if any of you are interested in trying to conjure up the kind of mood I'm going for, do a youtube search and I'm pretty sure you'll find most of 'em.

Anyway, hope you are all having as much fun reading these stories as I am writing them.

Enjoy!


	6. Chapter Five: Hell for Leather

**Chapter Five: Hell for Leather**

"Get down here now!" the commander shouted up at Callisto. She cocked her head at him with an impish smile.

"And if I don't?" she said, her tone one of genuine curiosity.

"If you don't, then I'll order Atrix here to go and get his bow and we'll see how well you can dodge an arrow," the commander said, motioning to the other mercenary standing with him.

Callisto turned her head to regard the other mercenary. He was not as tall as his commander, but he was squarely built with a thick torso, broad shoulders and indelicate hands. There were thick callouses on his index and middle fingers, most likely from notching arrows, and his right arm and shoulder bulged a little more beneath his armour than his left. Certainly all suggestive of a bowman. Callisto tried to picture how he would fight in close quarters. He didn't carry himself with the confident and easy poise of a swordsman. His posture was rigid. Military drilled most likely. Already in her head a picture was forming. A man of rote skill, but little finesse and certainly no imagination. She suspected he would use his size and strength to overwhelm an opponent. He had probably learned a number of forms and stances but she doubted he could cope well with improvisations from his opponent. All the better for her.

"You a good shot?" she asked.

"The best." The man said, his voice completely deadpan.

"Oooh!" Callisto giggled. "I like a challenge."

Despite her bravado, she could feel sweat running down the small of her back, and the muscles in her legs were beginning to burn fiercely with the effort of keeping her propped between the wall and the cloister's column. In truth she had no real options. They had her dead to rights and she was merely trying to stall for time while she came up with a plan of action.

Atrix simply shrugged at her comment and started for the exit.

"Alright," Callisto gave a mock sigh of exasperation. "If it makes you guys feel better I'll come down and we can have a nice little chat."

She snapped her legs together and dropped to the floor, landing delicately on her toes flourishing with her hands like a prize acrobat as she did so. The commander only stared at her unimpressed, while Atrix frowned as he eyed her up and down.

"You look familiar," he said. "Have we ever met somewhere before?"

"Now I think I'd remember a man as handsome as you deary," she said teasingly, hoping flirtation would work where bravado had failed.

Atrix only cocked a thick eyebrow at her. Callisto gave a long suffering sigh.

"No," she said flatly. "You've never met me."

"Well then," the commander interjected, "now that we've established no one here knows each other, how about you try giving us a name."

"Atrix," Callisto replied smarmily. The commander lifted his sword until the blade was pointed squarely between her ribs.

"I meant yours," He said, a new level of menace creeping into his voice.

Callisto had to think quickly. There was no way she could give these men her real name. She had become known throughout Greece as a fearsome warlord, the true successor to Xena's once infamous crown. There were many people who would love to see her head stuffed and mounted, and she had no way of knowing if these men were amongst them. She racked her brains in a vain attempt to think up something quick and clean. Only one name came to mind.

"Eve," she lied without so much as a flinch at the memory of the girl's tear stained face. Still, her stomach twisted bitterly as she said it.

"My name's Eve."

Atrix's eyes narrowed but he said nothing.

"Well then Eve," the commander began, stepping in close so that his sword tip hovered mere centimeters from Callisto's chest. "Care to tell us what you're doing here, and why you felt the need to hide from us?"

"Well I could explain it all to you," Callisto said, "but we might be here quite a long time."

"Start at the beginning," said the commander. "And I would suggest you keep it brief."

Callisto shrugged.

"If you insist," she said. "It all began about a week ago. You see I'd just been killed and then I woke up in the Underworld when Hades decided to resurrect me. Then Zeus came along and said I'd done some bad things to the natural order of the universe and that..."

The commander gave a snarl and stepped in close, the sharp point of his sword pressing against her chest. It was just the opening Callisto needed.

"You've got smart tongue on you g..." he began, but never finished.

Callisto's hand moved like a striking scorpion, swinging up in a flash to bat the flat of the sword away to the side. It span from the commander's loose grip to clatter loudly against the stone floor. Before it had even reached the floor though, Callisto's opposite hand flew straight for the commander's throat, catching his windpipe hard with the heel of her palm. He gagged the moment she struck him, falling back from her defensively and crashing noisily into a nearby column.

Atrix was already moving to strike her down, his sword coming up for a horizontal downward cut that would cleave her from shoulder to hip. Her movements had caught them unawares though, and he was precious moments behind. She dropped squat to the ground, long fingers spread across the cool stone as she twisted, bringing round her outstretched leg in a vicious sweep that cut Atrix' own legs out from under him and sent his sword flying from his grip in the same manner as the commander's had mere moments before.

Callisto surged to her feet in the sweep's follow through, coming up in a spinning pirouette any dancer would have been proud of. She could feel the anger burning in her gut like a guttering flame suddenly being fed. Doing her best to keep it under control, she narrowed her eyes and took stock of the situation. The two mercenaries were down but already starting to recover and she could hear the rattle of armour and the sounds of footsteps on the stairs behind her as the third mercenary hurried up from the outcrop's depths to discover the source of the commotion. Her instincts were screaming at her to go for one of the dropped swords and gut the two mercenaries before they could regain their composure, then take the third one's head when he came into the chamber, but that didn't seem like the kind of championly behaviour Zeus and Hades were expecting of her. Instead she turned on her heel and ran, the leather of her boots rapping loudly on the stone as she did so.

In moments she was through the temple and out into the daylight, squinting against the glaring sun after the relative dimness of the temple. She glanced quickly around. The mercenaries had tethered their horses to some nearby scrub. It would not stop them bolting if something were to startle them, but it would prevent them from wandering. She turned to look up the trail and cursed loudly. The other two mercenaries were already returning and were urging their horses to a gallop at the sight of her. They would be here in under a minute. She didn't have time to take one of the other mounts and already she could hear the pounding of footsteps from inside the outcrop as the commander and his men came in pursuit of her.

With only one other option remaining to her, she turned and sprinted in the opposite direction to the oncoming horses. There was no way she could outrun them but in the extra time she might be able to come up with a different plan that didn't involve her adding to the already sizable collection of scalps she had taken over the years.

"Go after her!" she heard the commander yelling hoarsely at his men as the thunder of hooves upon the trail grew louder and louder.

An arrow whistled past her cheek with a rush of air and buried its head in the ground just ahead of her. She threw a glance back over her shoulder and saw Atrix, bow extended and reaching for a second arrow. He was giving her an imploring look and she knew automatically that the first arrow had only been a warning. The horses were mere meters behind her now and closing fast. One of the riders was already reaching for his sword. Her mind raced but still no plan was forming.

She gave scream of frustration and skidded to a stop, raising her hands, palms open, as the horses pounded past to either side of her, their riders pulling hard on their reins and turning back to face her.

"Alright, alright!" she said hurriedly. "You guys win! I'm surrendering!"

Atrix and the third mercenary came trotting over a moment or two later. Atrix still kept his bow drawn and pointing down to the ground, but with an arrow nocked and ready to let fly should she try to flee. The commander followed after them moments later, massaging his throat as he neared her. Beneath his fingers she could see a wicked purple bruise already forming.

Callisto flashed him a wicked smile.

"So sorry," she said. "Did I do that?"

His fist caught her hard across the jaw, spinning her like a top and planting her on her hands and knees in the dirt. He squatted next to her, his voice hoarse and croaking but nevertheless filled with anger.

"No more smart mouth from you," he said. "Try to run again, and I'll have Atrix put an arrow through the back of your skull before you've gone a hundred yards."

Callisto glared furiously at him as she clambered back to her feet. Again, the burning fire inside her flared bright and fierce. She wanted to take his sword from him and ram it up under his chin, but reason was already taking hold. She worked her jaw carefully as her eyes flickered between the various soldiers. The odds were not on her side. With two of the mercenaries mounted, and all with swords unlimbered and ready to strike save Atrix, who carried his bow ready to fire, she doubted that further resistance would result in anything other than another ride on Charon's disgusting ferry.

"She one of Caelon's?" Said the third mercenary standing next to Atrix. "She looks like one of Caelon's."

The commander glanced at the man then looked back at her, his eyes seeming to take in her battle gear for the first time.

"Is he right?" he said. "Are you one of Caelon's thugs?"

"Even if I knew who you were talking about, the answer would still be no," Callisto replied.

"I believe her," Atrix said.

"Smart man," she said nodding at him.

The commander gave her a narrow eyed glare that demanded silence. Callisto only stared back defiantly.

"Why?"

Atrix shrugged.

"She doesn't move like a common bandit," he said. "I've never seen anyone move like that before."

He inclined his head slightly, studying her more keenly.

"I've heard stories though," he said thoughtfully.

The commander turned to the two men on horseback.

"What happened to the others? We could've got some answers out of them."

"They made it to the forest," the nearer of the two men said with a shake of his head. "We lost them in the trees."

The commander gave a grunt and nodded. He turned back to Callisto, clearly weighing his options. She just continued to stare back at him. It was clear whatever she said would not be believed. Finally the commander took a deep breath and scrubbed his hand across his face.

"We've done all we can here," he said. "We should be getting back to the village and the others."

"And her?" said Atrix, nodding toward Callisto.

"She comes with us obviously," the commander replied. "We can't afford to have some unknown wandering around out here. If she is one of Caelon's I don't want her getting back to warn him we're away from Penthos. Maybe by the time we get back there, she'll be a little more co-operative."

He turned to the third mercenary.

"Bind her and bring her along."

The man nodded and crossed to Callisto, giving her a rough shove to the shoulder to get her moving. She glared back at him, her eyes blazing fiercely.

"Touch me again and I break it off at the wrist," she said.

The man looked taken aback. He gave a deep swallow and nodded in the direction of the grazing horses by the outcrop.

"Get moving," he said, clearly trying to give voice to a sense of control he did not feel. One of the men on horseback chuckled.

"The little blondie scaring you Tarthus?" he said.

Callisto turned her stare on him.

"Of course I am," she said. "You want me to show you why?"

"Enough!" snapped Atrix and raised his bow, the arrow fixed on her. "Start walking."

Callisto eyed the bow steadily, then gave the barest of perceptible nods and began walking, her back held straight and her chin up turned, trying to appear every inch the honoured guest and not the prisoner she actually was.

It wasn't long before they were following the trail south away from the outcrop, Callisto being forced to ride side saddle behind Tarthus, her arms and feet bound tightly at the wrist and ankles. She felt like a pig being trussed up in preparation to be slaughtered.

The trail down into the basin was steeper than she had imagined but the dirt was as tightly packed here as elsewhere and the horses had no trouble maintaining their footing. Still, the path was narrow enough for the riders to have to travel single file and Callisto found herself having to spin herself so that her back was to Tarthus and she could grip his saddle with her bound hands. She found herself face to face with Atrix, who rode with his horse's reins resting in his lap, his bow still held ready with an arrow nocked. He guided the horse skillfully with his knees, clearly an experienced rider. A horse back archer then. That was unusual for one of his build. She shifted slightly under his level stare. As before it was steady and keen.

"Sooooo..." she began, mulling over something to say. "Have you ever actually killed anyone with that thing?"

She nodded toward the bow.

Atrix didn't reply. Instead he simply tapped his saddle. Beneath his fingers, carved into the leather, were a series of pale notches. Callisto could count at least fifteen.

"Not bad," she said with a nod of approval.

He gave another of his non committal shrugs, and dug his heels into his horse, drawing slightly closer to her. He continued to regard her from beneath heavy dark eyebrows.

"I know you're not one of Caelon's," he said finally, "and you're certainly not from Penthos."

"What's Penthos?" Callisto asked.

"The fishing village to the south," Atrix replied and frowned. "You don't know where you are?"

Callisto shook her head.

"Haven't had any idea since this morning."

"We're on the southern most tip of Greece. Sparta's some two hundred miles north of us."

"That explains why I don't recognise anything then," Callisto replied. "I've never been this far south before."

Atrix's eyes narrowed at that.

"This is wild country," he said, indicating the landscape around them with a flick of his head.

They were approaching the foot of the slope now, and the trail was about to plunge beneath the treeline and into the woods that covered the majority of the basin.

"The nearest settlement is Penthos and beyond that there's nothing for nearly three score miles in any direction," he continued. "There are a lot of bandits in country like this, preying on travelers and settlements. We usually just see merchant caravans and the like passing through. Recently some weird pilgrim types, but always traveling together, always in groups," he raised a single questioning eyebrow at her. "Which begs the question, how do you come to be out here all alone and without any clue where you are?"

Callisto was about to answer when she heard the commander shout back down the line.

"Hold!"

The horses each came to a stop and she had to crane her neck desperately to try and see ahead of them.

"What's happening? What's going on?" She asked.

"Quiet!" hissed Atrix, frowning over the top of her head for a moment.

"Smoke," she heard Tarthus murmur.

"Looks like Caelon got wind of our absence," she heard the commander call. "Time to ride hard men, we have a contract to honour."

With a loud shout the mercenaries dug in their heels, causing their horses to leap forward, hooves pounding loudly on the trail. Callisto hung on grimly to Tarthus' saddle as they plunged down the slope and into woods. The trees whipped past in a blur, each one little more than a smear of brown and green at the edges of her vision. Seated backwards, she could feel the wind buffeting the back of her head and her hair streamed out and into her eyes.

She gritted her teeth in pain as Tarthus' steed took a small tree that had tumbled over the track at a galloping leap, the landing jarring her bones and causing her to lose her grip on the saddle. She titled wildly and felt her center of gravity shifting with a sickening lurch. Suddenly Atrix was at her side, his galloping mount's eyes wide, nostrils flaring as it raced desperately against Tarthus'.

He leaned in close, one hand still gripping the reins tightly as they pounded along, and with the other gripped tightly at her shoulder and pulled her to his own horse, dragging her across its back in a most ungainly fashion.

"Hey!" she cried, but his attention was already back on the trail as they continued to surge along. Bound as she was, Callisto could do nothing but hope they made it to the village soon.

It took even less time than she had expected as they rounded a bend in the trail and burst from the tree line onto a narrow stretch of grass that ran up to a wooden stockade, the village gates open wide before them. The horses thundered into the village, drawing up with heaving flanks and loud snorts as their riders reined them in.

"To arms!" called the commander, and the sound of metal hissing against leather filled the air as swords were pulled from their sheaths.

In the distance Callisto could make out shouts and the distinct sound of battle. She sniffed, the acrid smell of smoke filling her nostrils. It was a scent that was all too familiar to her. Somewhere something was burning. She felt that same pang in her stomach again. Why did she keep feeling it?

"Its coming from the village green," said Tarthus. The commander nodded and kicked at his horse.

"Come on!" he shouted, and they were moving again.

As they rode around a corner, the village green loomed large. Low lying buildings, all with thatched roofs, surrounded it on three sides, and on the third it opened out into a long gentle slope that led down to a wooden dock occupied by a number of fishing boats bobbing peacefully on their moorings in the shallows of a pristine blue ocean. It was the only thing tranquil about the scene before them.

A number of the village buildings were already ablaze while all around them, the green was alive with chaos. Villagers scattered this way and that while men clad in the same armour as the mercenaries Callisto now rode with did their best to keep some semblance of control. Around the mercenaries men twice their number, dressed in the same eclectic and ragged armour as she had seen earlier that day, wreaked havoc. Most were engaged in battle with the beleaguered mercenaries, swords clanking loudly against each other as a thin haze of smoke drifted across the battle. A few were moving back and forth among the buildings, looting and lighting fires as they went.

The commander let out a loud holler of anger and rode his horse into the thick of the melee, the others following suit. Atrix was about to do the same when Callisto felt him tense suddenly. She followed his eye line to a small cluster of three of the marauding bandits who had broken off from the main group and had run toward a small wooden building at a far corner of the green. The building had a low lying outer courtyard on the right hand side. It was covered by a thatched awning and occupied by an anvil and various other tools. A blacksmith's forge, clearly.

"Dahlia!" Atrix cried and suddenly his horse was galloping across the green.

"Um... I think the fight's the other way." Callisto said.

"My wife's in there!" she heard Atrix cry back at her.

His horse slid to a stop outside, sending a shower of mud splattering across the wall of the building. He wasted no time dismounting, and drawing his sword as he began to turn toward the building.

"Hey!" Callisto called out to him.

"What!?" he shouted turning back to face her, his voice haunted and desperate.

Callisto leaned forward, showing her bound hands to him.

"There's three of them in there," she said, nodding toward the building. "Do you really fancy your chances three on one? You've seen me move, you know I can fight."

She proffered up her bound wrists to him.

"I can help you," she said simply.

Atrix stood for a moment regarding her then leaned over, his sword slicing easily through the ropes at her wrists and ankles.

Callisto hopped down to join him and together the two of them started at a run toward the building.

"You got a weapon for me?" she asked.

"No," Atrix replied.

"Not even a little one?"

"No."

"No dagger? stiletto blade? Long piece of string?"

"No."

"Well that's hardly reassuring is it?" she said.

"You managed fine without anything earlier," Atrix shot back.

"Fair point," she nodded.

Inside was dim, lit only by light from the windows and a guttering fire pit at the center of the room with a number of benches surrounding it. To the right a flight of stairs ran up to a single open air balcony with a number of doors leading off it. It was all the house had of a second floor.

Two of the three bandits were currently ransacking the place, turning out cupboards and chests in an attempt to find anything of value. One of them turned to catch sight of Callisto and Atrix's entrance. He whistled loudly to his compatriot and each turned to face them.

"Well well," one of them said as he eyed Callisto, "Look at this one boys... looks like we got ourselves another fine little lass here."

Callisto's lips curled upward in a wicked smile and she looked the man up and down with a disdainful flick of her eyes.

"Something tells me you couldn't handle a prize pig," she sneered, "let alone me."

The man's face twisted as she spoke, his temper clearly flaring. He was about to snap back a retort when Atrix spoke.

"Where's my wife?" he demanded taking a step forward, his sword raised menacingly.

As if on cue there was a woman's cry from one of the rooms on the balcony. Atrix's eyes flashed upward to one of the bedroom doors then returned to light upon the nearest bandit. He gave a blood curdling yell and dove at the man, sword flashing in the dim light from the fire pit. The bandit in turn brought his own sword around, an ill kept looking short blade with a badly wrapped pommel, and the two weapons met with that oh so familiar crash of metal on metal that sang sweetly in Callisto's ears.

She didn't have any more time to follow the battle though. The other bandit came at her with a roar of anger, a dagger in one hand and his own heavy looking short sword in the other. She twisted to avoid his sword thrust then, as the man's dagger went for her throat, she ducked, leaving it to pass harmlessly through the air above her. As she straightened the man brought his sword back around in a vicious back handed sweep intended to take her head off. Instinctively she dropped down into a back handspring, and the sword whistled across her eye line. Landing square on her shoulders, she braced with her arms and rocked back, and then launching herself forward, her boots flashing up and planting themselves firmly in the bandit's chest. He flew backwards through the air and came crashing down onto one of the benches, splintering wood and dust all around him.

Callisto bounced on the balls of her feet as the man rose groggily to his, shaking his head as he did so. His gaze fell upon Callisto and she winked at him.

"You really are desperate for a pounding aren't you?" he sneered, blood beginning to drip from his nose.

Callisto's smile was all teeth.

"Oh, in the worst way!" she fired back, and then launched herself at him with a furious cry.

The man's top lip peeled back in a wordless snarl, the blood from his nose staining his previously yellow teeth a bright crimson instead, and he charged to meet her. This time she didn't play with him. Without pause she stepped inside his wildly swinging strikes, planting a number of vicious blows across his torso before skipping back and around him, out of reach of his desperate return thrusts. Her boot came to rest against the splintered remains of the bench he had crashed into. Its end had come to rest in the fire pit and now it blazed brightly. With a grin, she flicked the burning spear of wood into the air with her toes. Catching it as it shot past her hand, she pivoted on her heel and brought it round hard against her attackers ribs.

She felt something crack as the man sailed sideways, then watched his face change from one of astonished pain to panic as the fire guttered for a moment then caught, blazing over his armour and clothes. He dropped his weapons and let out a hideous scream as the flames licked up him, growing like some terrible out of control forest fire. Callisto span back in a final powerful roundhouse that cracked the man's jaw and sent him spinning sideways against a wall hanging.

The hanging ignited almost immediately and the fire surged up it to lick hungrily at the thatched roof. Within moments the flames were tearing across the whole of the building, burning pieces of thatch and ash falling all around.

Callisto glanced around hurriedly to locate Atrix. This whole building would be coming down in mere minutes. For a brief moment she contemplated leaving, but she found herself surprised that she wasn't seriously considering it.

Atrix's opponent was lying on the floor, eyes open but dull, chest unmoving.

Suddenly there was another plaintive cry from that second story room. Callisto let out a soft curse. Without pausing, she bent to retrieve her fallen attacker's dagger and sprinted for the stairs, taking them two at a time as she dashed head long up to the second floor.

She burst through into the room to find Atrix flat on his back, eyes slightly glazed and blood running down from his temple. Standing over him, sword raised to deliver a killing blow was the third bandit. A woman, clearly heavily pregnant by the look of her bulging dress was huddled on a bed at the edge of the room, her eyes as wide as saucers at the scene unfolding before her.

Callisto did not hesitate. The rage was building inside her now. Images of her own village burning while Xena's soldiers marauded and killed ran roughshod through her racing thoughts. She flung herself at the third bandit with a banshee scream of pure hatred, her dagger lashing out and taking him hard just beneath the ribs. The man gasped as the two of them careened into the bedroom's back wall and the wind was driven out of him. Callisto didn't stop at that. She yanked the dagger free and plunged it in again, then again and again until her hands were slick and the dagger fell to the floor with a clatter. The bandit slid slowly down the wall, his face already an unseeing mask of death.

She span back around and the woman on the bed backed away from her, her eyes fixed on Callisto's hands. She didn't have time to think about the warm sticky feeling that covered her fingers. Instead she hurried to Atrix's side, pressing against his neck for a pulse. There it was, shallow but beating. By now she could feel the acrid crawling of smoke in the back of her throat and the dry crackle of the fire outside was growing louder each moment.

"Dahlia right?" she said as she stooped to grab Atrix' arm and droop it across her shoulders.

The woman just nodded.

"And Atrix here is your husband?"

The woman nodded again.

"Okay then, I hate to have to be the one to tell you this but this building, which I'm assuming is your home, is currently on fire and if you want yourself and your..." she glanced at the woman's swollen belly, "...spawn to live to see tomorrow, you'd better get over here and help me with this husband of yours."

She had managed to take most of Atrix's weight by this point and was in the process of levering him to his feet, but the man was out like a light and seemed to weigh the same as a small ox. Dahlia still wasn't moving, her eyes fixed on the body in the corner, wide and panicked white.

"Take your time!" Callisto snapped at her. "No rush! It's only a roof's worth of flaming thatch that's about to come down on our heads!"

Dahlia flinched and managed to tear her gaze away from the bandit slumped against the wall.

"Yes... I'm sorry," she managed to croak as she clambered off the bed and took Atrix under the other arm. Together the two of them managed to heft his weight and drag him out onto the balcony.

The fire had progressed faster than Callisto had thought. The entire roof of the building was now ablaze and the conflagration was now beginning to devour the walls as well. The beams that supported the thatch blazed brightest, the flames rolling along in them in great rippling waves. There was an ominous creaking sound as the roof began to sag dangerously inward.

"Just wonderful," she muttered to herself as they made for the stairs and the buildings front door, which still lay wide open onto the green beyond.

They took the stairs gingerly, being careful not to drop Atrix as they went. His bulk was hindering them more than she would have liked but again she was surprised when she found herself not really considering leaving her two companions for dead. In fact, now that she thought about it, she was stunned she was even helping them in the first place.

The smoke was beginning to thicken and both women were coughing loudly by the time they reached the bottom of the stairs. The ceiling beams began to groan again, much louder this time. Callisto felt a dark and creeping sense of dread crawling beneath her skin. She'd heard and seen this happen before in her own village and many times since. The roof was about to collapse.

Without even thinking she stepped out from under Atrix's arm and shoved both Atrix and Dahlia for the door. Dahlia stumbled clear carrying Atrix with her. A moment later Callisto felt an incredible burning weight smash down onto her back, driving her to the floor. She gasped as she hit the ground and lay still for a moment then craned her neck to see one of the heavy roof supports, all aflame and pressing down hard across her shoulders. Her leathers had taken the brunt of it but the heat was still fierce and she could feel her skin beginning to blister. Dahlia was standing dumbfounded, Atrix still propped up against her, his head lolling unconsciously to one side. She began to start back toward her, but Callisto just shook her hand and waved her on.

"Go!" she said, eyeing the other woman's stomach desperately "I can get myself out of this! You need to go!"

Dahlia gave a brief tearful nod and began to drag Atrix for the door. Soon they were obscured by the smoke and there was nothing left of them to see.

Callisto gritted her teeth and braced her arms against the ground, pushing hard. Smoke filled her lungs and she coughed loudly as she strained against the weight across her back. She let out fierce cry of desperation, and with a final mighty shove, managed to push herself upright, the beam falling to the ground. She stumbled a few tottering steps, the sudden shifting of the weight throwing her off balance and the thick smoke making her light headed. Finally she managed to regain her balance and started in the direction she hoped was the door, her hands groping blindly out in front of her. She coughed again, this time doubling over and hacking violently, when her hand pressed weakly against the wall. Carefully, she pressed both hands to it and began to feel her way along it. The exit had to be somewhere near here!

Deep inside her she felt something dark and cruel ignite, something filled with fury and a bitter terrible loathing. Images flashed in her mind, of searing hot flames and then her own wildly grinning features staring back at her.

"You don't just kill me and walk away," the mirror image smiled at her with smug satisfaction.

Then, in spite of all her efforts, it was all too late and the thick smoke overcame her as she collapsed into darkness.

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: **This chapter was a little late in coming, mainly because I've been a bit busy the last couple of days but also because it was so action heavy it proved to be an absolute nightmare to crack. This was due to me having difficulty staging the action to be dynamic but fit naturally into the flow of the story. It also was difficult to make sure Callisto was being somewhat consistent with her character on the show, without crossing too far over the line. She's supposed to be on a redemptive journey after all. It also resulted in me rethinking some of the characters I had planned to introduce in an effort to streamline things and keep the pace and flow of events feeling quick and natural.

Anyway, I'm very happy with how it turned out. Hope you all have fun reading it, although I do apologise for it being so lengthy.


	7. Chapter Six: Unwelcome Guests

**Chapter Six: Unwelcome Guests**

The tent was filled with the musty scent of stale sweat and bad breath as a good thirty or so bandits drank, brawled and otherwise caroused. Around them, the light of a strong fire cast them in myriad shadows that flickered and pranced wickedly across them. Caelon lay sprawled across a long velvet couch he had looted from the home of a wealthy village merchant years ago. It had once been a rich and royal purple, but age and a lack of care had worn it down to a faded and threadbare shadow of its original luster. In his hand he held a half empty flagon of rich ale they had taken from Penthos in their last raid. Like most of his men, he had been drinking steadily since sun down and the effects were starting to take hold as the room swam unsteadily before him.

Caelon was the kind of man one pictured when they thought of the leader of a bandit gang. Though he was tall, he was slim, all rangy muscle and ungainly long limbs, but he wore the decade or more of his experience heavy upon him. His skin was worn and creased from years of rough living and a cruel scar ran from the corner of his mouth to just under his right ear. It served him as a vicious reminder of how he had taken control of the band from its previous leader, and the cost for maintaining that control.

The scar tugged darkly at the corner of his mouth as he sneered drunkenly in the firelight, damaged nerves tugging it up into a twisted leer that was made all the more gruesome by the dancing shadows that filled the tent. He tilted the flagon back to this lips and drained the last of the ale from it, feeling its delicious bitter taste hit the back of his throat and run down into his stomach, warming him from the inside out.

His head swam dizzily as black thoughts of the previous day's raid filled it. It had gone as well as could be expected and they had made away with plenty of fresh supplies, but they had lost more men than he would have openly liked to admit. The loss of Vermithus had been the biggest blow. He had been Caelon's right hand man and had proved invaluable in keeping certain other members of the band in check. Members whose eyes Caelon could now feel on him, keen and calculating as they weighed his potential weakness against their own ability to maintain control of the gang should they be able to supplant him.

He cursed the stupidity of Vermithus. He'd been heading into some blacksmith's forge in search of decent weapons with two of his best lieutenants. This was despite Caelon's orders to pull back from the village when the remainder of the mercenaries had arrived, but then Vermithus had never been able to turn down a chance at plunder and the forge had been an easy opportunity. Caelon had watched a single of the village's hired mercenary guard head inside after them with some strange blonde woman he had never seen before in tow.

Vermithus had never come back out again.

He cursed again and stared angrily into the black pit that was his now empty flagon. Gods he was thirsty. Suddenly he was aware of a hushed silence that had fallen across the tent. He looked up to find a large swarthy man standing over him. Not as tall as Caelon, but with about twice the breadth and a thick brown beard that did not appear to have been washed in weeks. He was now standing with his arms folded across his chest, his gaze cold and filled with disdain.

"Herriod," Caelon grunted at the man dismissively. "Something I can help you with?"

For a moment the two men regarded each other in silence. Herriod was the first one to speak.

"Me and some of the others have been thinkin'," he began, fingering the dagger strapped to his thigh as he did so.

"Dangerous business that," Caelon interrupted, a dark grin twitching his scar. "You and your boys should be more careful about it. Leave it to those of us who know what we're doin'."

Herriod's lip twisted in a sneer.

"Like you huh?" he said.

Caelon clambered off his couch at that, straightening to face heavier man, his eyes sharp and dangerous.

"Yeah," he snarled challengingly, unwilling to show weakness in front of this jumped up sheep herder. "Like me."

"Were you thinking when you lead Vermithus and our boys in on that raid?" Herriod bit back. "We lost too many yesterday. Some of us are beginning to think this little deal you've got us here might've gone sour; that maybe its time to gut this village and move on."

"The deal's not done until I say it is," Caelon replied. "Last I checked, I was still in charge around here."

"Things can change," Herriod said.

"Oh?" Caelon gave a derisive snort.

He stepped in close to Herriod, his eyes flashing wildly as he did so.

"And which of you has the spine to try and change it?" he hissed, his voice low and threatening.

"We were just sayin'" said Herriod backing off slightly, his posture changing subtly, shoulders now not so square, chest not thrust out so far and eyes no longer quite so defiant. "Wanted to let you know what the boys have been talkin' about is all."

"Well then," Caelon pushed, "you can go back over to _your_ boys and tell them this ain't a republic like Rome. I'm no elected official in white robes servin' the will of you cretins. There are no votes in _my_ band. Not so much as a show of hands. Clear?"

Herriod gave a slight swallow.

"As crystal," he said, visibly sagging as he turned away. Caelon watched his back for a moment. He'd managed to fend off the challenge to his authority, but he couldn't leave it at that. He had to prove right here and right now that he was still in command and that insubordination of any kind would not be tolerated. An example had to be made, and much to Caelon's delight it was Herriod who had volunteered himself.

He lifted the flagon he was holding and brought it crashing down over the back of Herriod's skull with all his strength. It made a dull thump as it connected and Herriod's legs immediately turned to water. The big man toppled forward, hitting the ground with a lough thud. A ragged cheer went up from some of Caelon's more loyal supporters as the bandit leader moved to stand beside Herriod's unconscious body. Herriod's own followers remained silent, all of them watching the scene wide eyed.

Caelon turned on the spot, taking in the entire tent.

"No votes!" he shouted to the men around him. "No committees, no discussions. We ride when I say we ride. We raid when I say we raid."

He turned back to Herriod and delivered a savage kick to the man's ribs. They gave a satisfying crack under his boot and the big man groaned loudly. Caelon spat on him and turned back to address the tent again.

"We kill when I say we kill," he finished.

With that he crossed back to his previous position to grab his sword and buckle it to his hip. He could feel a dull aching sensation in his crotch. Without a word he turned, stalking back past Herriod's prone and groaning body and out into the cool night air.

Outside the moon was hanging low to the horizon, thin streamers of cloud reaching across it like thin fingers attempting to choke it. The bandit camp was little more than a few large tents and a couple of small cooking fires set in a muddy well trodden forest clearing. What horses they had were tethered to the trees at the edge of the camp's perimeter while a lone member of the band stood watch over them. One or two other men had drawn the short straw that night and earned themselves patrol duty. They stalked back and forth at the edges of the tree line, occasionally griping and grumbling to themselves. Caelon stumbled past one of them and gave him a drunken nod. The fresh air was making his head swim and the trees seemed to be floating dizzyingly across his vision. Finally he reached a spot with a little privacy away from the ring of firelight. Without ceremony, he dropped his pants and began to relieve himself against the nearest tree.

The dull ache dissipated almost immediately and he gave a brief sigh of satisfaction as he began to pull his pants back up. Off to his right there was the dry rustle of footsteps on grass and he span, his sword flying into his hand as he dropped into a poised crouch with the blade extended in front of him. A figure was standing alongside another tree nearby, their face draped in shadows from the over hanging branches that made it impossible to make out. Still Caelon recognised the visitor's posture, and straightened. They didn't pose any threat.

"Very dignified," the visitor said, the voice one of a man, and one that was dripping sarcasm to boot.

"What are you doin' here?" Caelon replied, ignoring the other man's comment. "You're takin' a big risk. We made arrangements so that we wouldn't have to meet like this."

The other figure nodded.

"I know, but the situation has changed. We have a new variable in play."

"Let me guess," Caelon said, "leggy, blonde, wearing a black leather skirt and not a lot else?"

"You've seen her then," it was a statement, rather than a question but still Caelon nodded.

"Yes," he said.

"She killed two of your men. Didn't break a sweat doing it either. A fire nearly got her, but she survived. She's recovering in the village as we speak, probably be back on her feet in another day or so."

"All very interesting, but why tell me in person?" Caelon said. "You could have just passed me a note at the drop."

"I think she might be Callisto."

Caelon felt his heart freeze.

"Impossible," he hissed. "Callisto's dead. Xena killed her."

"Well she certainly matches the stories and there can't be a lot of people like her wandering about."

"If it is Callisto, why's she here alone?" Caelon said.

The other man just shrugged.

"Who knows. From what I hear, Callisto doesn't need much of a reason for anything she does. My guess would be she's scouting, probably about to bring an army down on us and wants to get the lay of the land first."

Caelon didn't like the sound of that. Maybe Herriod had been right. Maybe packing up and moving on wasn't such a bad idea after all.

"I think its time our arrangement came to an end," he said.

The man in the shadows nodded.

"I'd be forced to agree. But maybe there's still time to squeeze some last juice from this ripe old goose we've been feasting on."

"A final banquet you mean?" Caelon said, raising an eyebrow at the other man.

Again the other man nodded.

"The only question would be how to set it up," Caelon continued, his voice pondering. "Callisto ain't likely to let us take the richest pickings for ourselves and leave her and her army with the scraps. If even half the stories are true, she's more than tough enough for the two of us."

"Funny you should ask," the other man replied slyly. "I think I already have a plan..."

* * *

The smoke was thick; too thick for her to see more than an inch or so in front of her face. It assaulted her eyes and throat, making both sting bitterly. Her fingers were pressed flat to a wooden wall as she slowly shuffled forward, trying vainly to find her way to the exit, but no matter which way she moved, all there was was the same single unending surface of wood beneath her fingertips. The smoke was continuing to thicken and she began to cough, her body wracked by great hacking fits that doubled her over to her knees. She had to find a way out and soon...

From where? Where was she? The more she thought about it, the more she realised she couldn't even remember how she had come to be here, let alone where here was. None of that seemed important to her right now however. All that really mattered was finding a way out.

Desperately she pushed herself away from the wall. Maybe the answers lay somewhere out here in the seemingly never ending clouds of smoke. She pushed her hands out in front of her, long fingers groping desperately at the empty air. There was nothing there, nothing to guide her or lead her in any fresh direction.

She let out a whimpering moan, and tried to return to the relative sanctuary of the wall. To her surprise and dismay, when she retraced her steps and held out her hands preparing to brace them against wood, she felt nothing save the empty air. The wall was gone! How could that be? Where could it go!? She felt a growing sense of panic stirring deep within her, and she let out another round of hacking coughs. There had to be a way out! There just had to be!

She span on the spot, arms spread wildly, fingers trailing in the smoke. Still nothing. Nothing at all. She was all alone. Alone and with no one to hear her desperation. She let out a terrific scream of unbridled frustration, but the only answer was silence...

...and then an eerie mocking laughter.

She blinked. It sounded so familiar, filling the air the same way as the smoke until it was all around her, cloying and inescapable.

"Please!" she begged of her invisible tormentor. "Please! You have to help me! I can't find the way out!"

Her voice was hoarse and cracked from the dry smoke filled air. When the reply came it seemed to come from all different directions at once.

"Oh deary, look at you, so pathetic and small," it said, "so lost and alone, all alone, all alone."

There was a haunting sing song quality to the voice now, one that made her stomach twist itself in knots. It sounded so innocent, and yet at the same time, so malevolent.

"Please!" she cried again. "Please help me!"

"I can help you," the voice said "I can lead you a to a place, a wonderful place, where you'll never be alone again."

"Yes!" she said, nodding vigorously in agreement "Yes! Anywhere please! Anywhere but here."

"As you wish," the voice said, strangely soft and caring now. "Now hold out your hand."

She did as she was told and felt another hand come from out of the smoke. Its long fingers wrapped firmly around hers, holding her hand tightly and tugging insistently.

"This way," the voice said, its tone one of saccharine sweetness that put her immediately on edge.

"Where are you taking me?" she asked as she was lead firmly onward.

Around her the smoke was already beginning to lift until the only traces of it were pale wisps drifting past her head.

"To the only place you should be," the voice replied.

As the last of the smoke cleared her eyes widened. The hand gripping her own had disappeared and there was no longer anyone with her. To her surprise she was not in a wooden building as she had previously believed either. Instead she was standing in the center of a village. A village from long ago.

Her village.

It was all ablaze, a hideous inferno driven by dark winds seemingly blowing straight from the gates of the Underworld. The fire ripped from roof to roof, devouring all as it went like a wave of hatred and death. Her eyes stung again, though this time not from smoke, and tears stained her cheeks as she watched her innocence burn.

Then she saw it, that same haunting silhouette that she had seen before but could not remember where. It was moving through the flaming buildings as a spirit moves through walls. Nothing hindered or slowed it as it approached, emerging from the fire like a predator stalking its prey. The newcomer was an exact duplicate of herself, its face malicious and hate filled, split by a cruel smile and dark eyes that glinted with insanity.

"Why!?" she cried as Cirra burned around her. "Why bring me back here again!?"

"Because its where you belong!" he duplicate snarled back, and that vicious smile spread even wider, the teeth seeming to grow whiter and more shark like as it did. "Down here with me."

* * *

Callisto's eyes flashed open in an instant and for a moment she stayed that way, her body tense as a rod, her breath caught in a sharp inhale. Finally she felt her muscles begin to loosen, and the breath that had filled her lungs to bursting was expelled in a long low moan. She was lying on her side on a less than comfortable straw mattress. A worn old wooden wall lit only by the dull warmth of firelight stood mere inches from her face. She shivered. There was cool air on her back but despite the chill she could still feel a dull heated burning sensation between her shoulders. From somewhere nearby she could hear the dry crackle of a torch, presumably the source of the flickering light, and something that sounded like shallow rippling water.

"Easy now," a wizened sounding voice said, all paternal authority but possessing very little warmth in its tone. "You should try to lie still. You've been unconscious the last day or so."

Grunting, Callisto pushed herself up on her palms until she was kneeling and took in the room around her. The surroundings were less gloomy than the chambers in the Underworld, but nor were they luxurious. The room was a simple bed chamber, the kind one rented in an inn for a dinar a night, with only a simple bed, an end table and little else. Above the end table was a small window through which a few thin slivers of moonlight shone down upon a bowl filled with water. An older man, with thick unkempt grey hair and arms the size of ale kegs was currently standing over it soaking a thin white cloth.

"I take it I'm still in Penthos," she said.

The man nodded.

"Care to tell me who you are?" she asked.

The man glanced at her then withdrew the cloth from the water, twisting it hard between thick fingers until the excess water was drained away.

"Silas," he replied. "And you're name is Eve, is that right?"

Callisto's eyes narrowed for a moment. Why did he think her name was... suddenly it all came rushing back to her and she nodded hurriedly, hoping he hadn't noticed her slightly overlong pause.

"That's right," she said, a little too sharply.

Silas regarded her for a moment, his expression strangely unreadable.

"Is it now," he said.

The two of them were silent for a moment, their eyes fixed on one another. Callisto's mind turned. There was something not quite right here. She could feel it in her gut and it was making her uneasy.

Finally he crossed the room to the bed and seated himself behind her. She was about to turn when she felt the cold cloth touch against the burning sensation between her shoulders and gave a sharp hiss of pain.

"Hold still," Silas muttered as he dabbed at the skin. "Your leathers took the worst of it but your skins still a little barbecued."

Without mercy he suddenly pushed the cloth hard against her back. Callisto winced.

"You're not a healer are you?" she said, glancing back over his shoulder at him.

"Not a healer," he confirmed. "The village blacksmith."

"So that was your house that I was in when it caught fire?" Callisto said, being careful to leave out the small fact that it was a fire she had caused, however accidentally.

"It was," Silas nodded.

Callisto frowned.

"The last thing I can remember is smoke," she said. "Lots and lots of smoke. How did I get out of their in the end?"

"You didn't," Silas said. "I found my daughter standing outside with Atrix. He says you two spoke a little."

Callisto shrugged then winced again as a spike of pain ripped through her shoulder and she felt the scorched skin tugging tight beneath the wet cloth. So Dahlia was Silas' daughter, which made Atrix his son in law. Looks like she had stumbled into the middle of a little family drama.

"If you can call it speaking," she said. "I attacked him, he threatened to shoot me, its a long and tragic tale."

Silas gave a snort of dry amusement.

"Dahlia was concerned for you. Said you hadn't come out yet. Atrix and I went back in and found you not more than three feet from the door. We managed to drag you out onto the green and brought you here to the inn to rest until you recovered. We were beginning to wonder if you'd ever wake up. Atrix and Dahlia have been worried about you. They said your sleep was very fitful."

"Sleep isn't something I do very well," she replied. In the back of her mind she could feel the half remembered pieces of her dreams gnawing at her. Something told her she didn't want to remember what those dreams had been.

"Hardly surprising," Silas said. "I imagine even people like you suffer from a guilty conscience on occasion."

Callisto was off the bed in a shot, turning to glare furiously at the village blacksmith, hands resting angrily on her hips.

"Care to explain what you mean by that?" she snapped at him.

"Only that Eve is a very poor pseudonym Callisto," he replied.

Callisto's brow furrowed as she studied the man's face. She didn't recognise him, but then she probably would not be able to recognise many of her victims faces, nor the faces of their families.

"How do you know who I am?" she said, trying to play for time while her mind raced. Had he told anyone and if he had, was she in danger here? Her eyes flicked around the room, searching for anything she could use as a potential weapon, not that she really needed one. She was quite proficient with her bare hands should it come down to that, and despite his size she was more than confident in her abilities to handle this blacksmith.

"A year or two ago the fishing around these parts wasn't so good," Silas replied. "We offered prayers to the gods, even a sacrifice or two. Nothing seemed to appease them, so I agreed to make the pilgrimage to Delphi to consult with the Oracle on our fortunes."

Silas needed to say no more. Callisto remembered Delphi all too well. It had been her first real encounter with Xena, her first true shot at revenge against the woman who had taken everything from her but pain and hate. It had also been the beginning of her descent into hopelessness and despair.

There was a long moment of silence.

"I wanted to thank you," Silas said finally, twisting the cloth uncomfortably between his fingers as he did so, "for saving my daughter and her child. I don't know why you did it, but her mother died several years ago and they're all I have left."

Once a platitude such as thanks would have meant nothing to her. It would have just been another tool to use against whoever was uttering it. Now though, Callisto felt something stir inside her upon hearing it. That same strange pang again. How many people had she taken from this world? Truth be told, she had long since lost count. How many mothers and daughters? How many fathers and sons? And just like Silas or Eve in the Underworld, she could not even remember their faces. For the first time in her life she found herself unable to meet someone's stare.

"I..." she began, then trailed off. "Uh... you're welcome?" she ventured finally, her voice wavering ever so slightly.

Silas only shrugged and crossed back to the bowl, dropping the cloth into the water.

"Atrix and Dahlia are downstairs," he said. "I'm sure they would be most relieved to see you up and about."

He began to rinse the cloth in the water then paused, his profile one of a man in deep thought. He seemed to be deciding something. Finally he turned back to face her.

"I am most grateful for what you did for me," he said, "and out of respect for that I have told no one who you really are and nor will I, but I would ask that you leave Penthos as soon as you are able."

Callisto's eyes narrowed.

"And why should I do that?" she said, her voice challenging.

Silas nodded toward the window.

"Take a look outside," he said.

Callisto did so. The moon shone clear and bright over the village green, covering everything in its clear silver light. A wooden frame had been erected at the green's center and three figures hung from it by their necks, heavy dark sack cloth bags pulled down to cover their faces. They swayed slightly in the night time breeze and, had she been standing outside, she imagined she would have been able to hear the soft creaking of wood under strain.

"Penthos is a frontier village," Silas said softly at her shoulder. "Our justice is harsh. We deal with any threats that arise most severely. These men raided our homes, tried to take that which they had not earned in sweat and toil. Now they will never take anything from anyone again."

Callisto turned and eyed him, her top lip curling up in a dangerous grin.

"Don't try and threaten me old man," she said. "Stronger than you have tried. They all suffered for it."

"I am not trying to threaten you, only to warn you" Silas said, his voice cool but level. "I don't know why you are here Callisto, or why you decided to come to our aid instead of purging all before you as your reputation would suggest you do. All I know is that you, and those like you, bring only suffering and pain, no matter your intentions be they good or ill. Penthos is my home and I would not have the same brought here."

Callisto did not know what to say. She stood for a moment then turned back to the bodies hanging on the gallows outside. In her mind she could see Penthos lit up in flames like it had been the day before, a fierce inferno that would turn all before it to ash upon the wind and leave only misery and loss in its wake. Not so long ago, her rage would have found some brief measure of satisfaction in that. She was surprised to find that now it only seemed to add to her pain; another village like her own reduced to nothing by a capricious whim.

She swallowed, feeling an ache in her throat as she did so, and nodded.

"Alright," she said. "I'll be gone before the end of tomorrow,"

"Thank you," Silas said again.

This time she didn't reply.


	8. Chapter Seven: True Justice

**Chapter Seven: True Justice**

Callisto did not move from the room for the rest of the night. After Silas left she returned to the bed and seated herself on it, her back against the wall and legs pulled up tight in front of her while the shadows danced at the edges of her vision. She eyed them suspiciously, thinking back to the Underworld and the shadows in the feast hall that had later attacked her on her journey back to the world of the living.

She rested her chin on the tops of her knees and did her best to ignore them. From below came the sound of merry making. The inn clearly had a common room and the soft strains of music could be heard drifting in from beyond the bedroom door. For a moment she entertained the idea of going downstairs to join the villagers but then thought better of it. After all, what would she have to contribute? She could always offer to gut someone for them. That usually went over well, especially if you wanted to get yourself strung up like a grouse for winter solstice.

The burns on her back were aching again. She clambered down from the bed and headed over to the bowl, soaking the cloth Silas had been using afresh and draping it over her shoulders in an attempt to soothe the aching. The water was colder than she remembered and she shivered as the cloth slapped wetly against the burned skin. For brief moment the pain flared higher then subsided again.

Below the sound of merriment had begun to fade away as the night wore on. She could hear the murmur of drunken conversation as people stumbled from the inn and out into the night, one or two voices seemingly raised in anger followed by a number of curses being spat at the corpses hanging in the center of the village.

Callisto found herself wondering if Silas would keep to his word. She wasn't afraid of the villagers as such; more concerned about her deal with Zeus and Hades. Something told her that if she were to die now, lynched by an angry mob no less, she would not have fulfilled their idea of her role as a champion. Her mind drifted back to the visions of Elysium she had seen upon the walls of Hades' fortress, and with them memories of her family.

She blinked when she suddenly realised that all in the inn, and indeed the village outside, was now silence. She moved back to her original position on the bed, floorboards creaking loudly in the quiet and sat again, unable to sleep and not really wishing to either. Instead her mind turned slowly as she mulled over all that had happened to her since Xena had stabbed her.

The world had turned upside down since then and nothing seemed to be behaving as it should be, least of all herself. The anger and pain that had driven her life for so long like boiling acid in her veins no longer lent her the same strength they once had. Instead all she felt now was hollow, like someone had taken a scoop to what few feelings she had been capable of and left nothing in their place. But then, creeping into it all, was something new; emotions she had not felt in so long that she was no longer sure what they truly were or how to react to them. They were beginning to frustrate her. Where once she had been confident and sure of herself and her goals, now she felt more like it was all for show, just a facade she was putting up to hide her inner turmoil from those around her.

She sat pondering for many hours as the torch light began to gutter and die while, in the corners of the room, the shadows began to deepen and lengthen. She barely noticed, lost in thought as she was. Slowly, outside the first rays of morning sunlight began to peak over the tops of the village buildings to come spilling in through the window. The shadows retreated at their touch and the room steadily began to lighten again.

Within the hour, bright morning sunlight was flooding the room and Callisto could feel its warmth on her face. She sat there, soaking in its gentle caress and for the briefest moment all was still, inside and out.

Then there came a soft knock at the door.

Callisto was up off the bed in a flash. She crossed quickly to the door, pressing herself up tight against the wall to the side of it and being careful not to pass too close to the door itself as she did so out of fear her shadow would be seen moving from the other side.

She listened intently for a moment or two and caught the sound of a gentle throat clearing, followed by another knock at the door.

"Hello?" came a woman's voice. "Hello Eve? Eve are you there? My father said you were awake last night."

Callisto leaned over slowly and pressed her eye to the crack between the door and its frame. Though blurry, she could just make out a woman standing close to the door, and fidgeting nervously. She had long brown hair with pleats running along her temples, presumably knotted at the back of her head. She held one hand to a swollen belly, and looked more than a little uncomfortable. Callisto remembered her all too well. It was Dahlia.

Quickly she stepped in front of the door and opened it, doing her best to appear welcoming as she did so. The way she yanked the door open was not a good start, and Dahlia jumped, clearly startled by her sudden appearance.

"Goo..." the other woman began, her voice a startled gasp, then swallowed and started again.

"Good morning!" she managed finally.

For the first time Callisto noticed Atrix standing with her. She had not been able to see him from her earlier vantage point. He raised an eyebrow at her.

She nodded toward the both of them.

"Morning to you too," she said, trying to sound cordial, but really just wanting to be left alone.

"You always open the door that way?" Atrix asked, his eyebrow still raised quizically.

"Normally I just kick it down," Callisto replied

"And if there's someone on the other side?"

She shrugged.

"Never usually think about it,"

Dahlia unconsciously raised both hands to shield her belly.

"We, uh..." she began uncertainly. "We just thought you might be interested in joining us for breakfast."

Callisto was not really sure how to respond to that. She stood dumbfounded for a moment, her mouth hanging open as if to reply, but no words would come. Why on earth were they inviting her to dine with them? She had viciously stabbed a man in front of this woman! True, said man had been about to disembowel her husband, but Callisto had had many years of experience and found that extreme acts of violence seldom endeared you to people... and _breakfast!?_

"I..." she began, then realised she wasn't certain how to continue. The two of them waited patiently with expectant looks on their faces. It was infuriating.

"I..." she tried again, then gave up and threw her hands up in frustration.

"Do I look like the breakfasting type to you?" she said finally.

Atrix eyed her up and down.

"You like the no eating at all type to me," he said, a clear shot at her slim build.

"Atrix!" Dahlia rounded on him furiously. "This is the woman who saved both our lives, and the life of our child, and all you can manage is a nasty little jibe?"

"But I..." his voice trailed off as Dahlia placed her hands firmly on her hips and glared at him.

"You're right of course," he said with a penitent nod and turned to face Callisto.

She flashed him a toothy grin, enjoying his suffering.

"I apologise for what I just said," he said, eyeing Dahlia out of the corner of his eye as he did so. "We would be most honoured if you would join us for breakfast. It seems the least we could do after what you did for us."

"Well," Callisto said, clapping her hands together in a most satisfied manner, "How could I refuse such a lovely invitation? I'd be more than happy to join you both for breakfast,"

Her grin widened sadistically as Atrix looked even more uncomfortable. Maybe she could manage to find some fun in this most dire of situations after all. _Breakfast!?_

The three of them headed downstairs, and Callisto's earlier supposition was proved right. Almost the entire bottom floor of the inn was a large open common room, with only the kitchens and a bedchamber for the inn keeper being kept separate. Like the rest of the inn, the furnishings were utilitarian at best.

Mounted against a nearby wall and filled with freshly chopped wood was a stone hearth. The first fire of the day had clearly just been lit and it hissed and cracked loudly, thick smoke billowing up a long stone chimney.

The rest of the room was filled with long tables and benches of coarse wood obviously cut from the surrounding forest. A number of people were already in the room and at table, the most obvious group being the mercenaries who occupied almost a whole table to themselves. Callisto counted eleven of them not including Atrix, but Tarthas, the commander and one of the horsemen who had rode her down the day or so before were also notable by their absence.

A more unusual looking bunch was seated at one of the tables in the corner. There were three of them, shaven headed and dressed in heavy looking crimson robes embroidered with strange patterns Callisto had never seen before. The stitching was in a crimson a shade darker than the rest of their robes, making them difficult to make out and especially at this distance, but in amongst the patterns she thought she could see the image of a sickle sewn small at the center of each robe's collar. Everyone else in the room seemed to be studiously ignoring the robed men, who in turn were keeping to themselves.

Sitting at another table nearby was Silas, feasting quietly on a chunk of bread that looked surprisingly fresh and a bowl of broth beside him that steamed hotly in the morning air. He seemed to be engaged in hushed conversation with another man opposite him; one dressed in a ragged and gravy stained tunic with an equally well worn apron tied at his waste. The inn keeper presumably.

"Morning Atrix!" called one of the mercenaries, throwing his compatriot a hearty wave. "I see you were able to rouse the hero of the day at long last."

Callisto's mouth nearly dropped open at that as they crossed to one of the unoccupied benches. Her? A hero? As she sat, she caught Silas throwing her a sideways glance. She met his gaze and held it. He gave a brief nod before returning to his food.

"We did indeed," Atrix replied to the mercenary.

He glanced around the room then turned back to the mercenaries when he did not see what he was searching for.

"Commander Methades and the others aren't back yet?"

The other mercenary shook his head.

"No sign of them. They'll be back soon I guess, unless the patrol went badly."

Atrix just nodded, not seeming to be overly concerned.

The three of them seated themselves at an unoccupied table, Dahlia and Atrix together on one side with Callisto sitting opposite them. The inn keeper got up from his conversation with Silas and grabbed several readily prepared rounds of bread and broth on a serving tray before moving to meet them.

"Good morning my ladies and gentleman," he said as he came closer.

He gave Callisto a broad smile.

"And an especially good morning to you madam," he said.

"Any particular reason why?" Callisto asked.

The inn keeper looked dumbfounded.

"But of course," he said, beginning to place their breakfast on the table in front of them. "You saved our dearest Dahlia here..."

Atrix cleared his throat.

"...And her lovely husband too," the inn keeper continued, giving Callisto a knowing grin.

She wasn't sure how to react to all of this. She could not remember ever having been greeted so warmly by people before. Even Zeus had had ulterior motives while wining and dining her, yet these people seemed genuinely glad that she had come into their lives. True, they were all unaware of her previous... endeavours, but it was still beginning to make her feel uneasy.

Instead of answering she lifted the bread to her mouth and tore off a hunk of it between her teeth. Her stomach immediately grumbled loudly and for the first time she realised how hungry she was, this being the first meal she had had since leaving the Underworld.

"Everyone is most grateful that you came to our aid," the inn keeper was continuing as he bustled around them. "Methades and his men do a truly distinguished job but, well, they are getting paid for their services and rather handsomely too. It takes a truly kind individual to offer up help with no thought of reward."

Callisto nearly choked at that. The only reason she hadn't been thinking of a reward was because the situation had unfolded so fast there simply had not been time to think. She had been acting rather than planning and for the first time the truth of that minor revelation truly hit her. There had been no calculation, or manipulation and she had not even spared a thought for how much pain her actions could inflict as she might have done in the past. Instead she had just acted, and in doing so done something... what? Good? Right? She was not really sure, but the thought of it confused her still further.

"I... uh... I..." she could feel Silas' eyes on her as she struggled to think of something to say.

"It just seemed like the thing to be done at the time," she said finally.

The inn keeper paused for a moment, regarding her with a surprised look. She didn't think her answer had been the one he was anticipating. Maybe he had been expecting something a little more 'aw shucks' humble than what she had given him. Hercules would doubtless have said the right thing, the humble thing. The quietly noble thing. Well he would have to learn to live with disappointment. She was a far cry from that great lug and she had no intention of trying to emulate him either.

After a moment or two more, the inn keeper's smile returned.

"Well, should you need anything else don't hesitate to ask. For as long as you're here, my inn is at your disposal."

Callisto could feel Silas' eyes on her again at that comment.

"Actually, that won't be necessary," she replied. "I plan to be on my way before the end of the day."

The inn keeper looked positively crestfallen while Dahlia and Atrix only looked moderately surprised. Silas merely went back to his food, seemingly satisfied with her answer.

"Well that is a little disappointing," said the inn keeper, "but I suppose it's to be expected. Little to keep a warrior like yourself here after all."

"Oh I don't know about that," Callisto replied, winking at Dahlia as she did so. "Atrix here seems to have found something."

Dahlia blushed but gave a soft smile as she did so and Atrix reached down and touched her hand affectionately.

"Any chance of something to drink with this?" he asked, gesturing toward the hunks of bread in front of him.

The inn keeper gave an agreeable nod.

"Right away master Atrix." He bustled off busily leaving the three of them alone at their table again.

"You're leaving so soon?" Dahlia asked. "I was hoping we could get to know you a little better."

"I..." Callisto began, but suddenly the image of Gabrielle and Perdicus rose to the surface of her thoughts and she took a thick spoonful of broth instead.

"I don't think that would be such a good idea," she said finally.

"We should not impose on our guest daughter," Silas said.

He had picked up his bowl and bread and moved to seat himself with them. As he slid onto the bench next to Dahlia, Callisto thought she heard the wood creak softly under his weight.

"I'm sure she has much to be doing," he shot Callisto a purposeful look.

She nodded hurriedly in return.

"I do, I do," she said, doing her best to think up a quick lie. "I was er..."

What could she say she had been doing? What could she say were her reasons to be passing through the area?

"I was a guard on a merchant caravan passing north of here," she finally managed. "We came under attack from bandits, probably the same ones who attacked the village."

She let her head hang in mock shame, attempting to sell her story more convincingly.

"We couldn't hold them off, and we ended up scattering into the forest to get away from them. I've never traveled these roads before so I wound up getting turned around and completely lost."

She laced her fingers together around her bowl of broth and looked back up, meeting their eyes with a self conscious shrug for dramatic effect.

"Hardly my finest hour," she said.

Silas continued to chew slowly at his bread, saying nothing. Atrix on the other hand frowned deeply.

"Strange," he said.

Callisto looked at him.

"What is?"

"We patrol the roads for miles around during the day," he said gesturing to the other mercenaries. "Haven't seen any sign of a trade caravan in close to a month. Come to think of it, the only travelers we have seen are the three Followers over there and they're hardly strangers around here."

He nodded toward the three men in the crimson robes seated in the corner.

Silas glanced between Atrix and Callisto then spoke up.

"Just because you didn't see them doesn't mean they weren't there," he said. There are many paths through the forest to the north, and there aren't enough of you to keep them all watched, all the time."

Atrix gave a frustrated sigh at that.

"True enough," he said. "If there were we'd have had Caelon swinging from the gallows out there a long time ago."

Callisto gave Silas a thankful glance, but he ignored it instead going back to his broth.

"This Caelon sounds like a real problem," she said, ripping off a chunk of bread and dipping it in her own steaming bowl. The food was barely a shadow of the rich meals she had been served in the Hades' fortress, but it was certainly hearty fare and she was hungry enough to eat a horse.

"That would be putting it mildly."

Callisto twisted to see behind her as a fresh but familiar voice entered the conversation. The mercenary commander had entered the inn, Tarthus and the third missing mercenary only a few feet behind him.

"Commander Methades!" Dahlia said, seemingly surprised by his entrance.

"My apologies commander! Had I known you were returning so soon I would not have kept Atrix so long."

Methades waved away her apologies as he moved to join them. Callisto shifted uncomfortably. Things were beginning to become a little too social for her and she was starting to find it difficult to maintain her civility around so many people.

"Nonsense my dear lady," Methades said as he slid onto the bench alongside her. "It is I who have kept your husband away from you and for far too long recently."

"He is protecting our village," Dahlia replied. "I believe I can stand an extended absence when the cause is worthwhile."

"A good woman you've found yourself here Atrix," Methades smiled at the other mercenary.

Callisto fought the sudden urge to wretch.

"I take it you still intend to remain here when the time finally comes for us to move on?" Methades continued.

"I do," Atrix said, giving Dahlia's hand another squeeze.

"It will be a shame to lose you then, but enough of this!" Methades banged his palms flat on the table for theatrical effect. "I see our little hellcat here has finally recovered from her injuries."

"Our little hellcat?" Callisto cocked an eyebrow dangerously at the commander but he just ignored her.

She considered it a true exercise in self restraint that she managed to keep from flinging herself at his throat and trying to throttle him. Instead she contented herself with the sight of his neck. It was covered by a livid purple bruise, clearly the result of the blow she had struck at their first meeting.

"Any luck on patrol sir?" Atrix said, clearly noticing the dark tone in Callisto's voice and attempting to change the subject.

Methades let out a long sigh.

"Not really. We had a brief run in with a number of Caelon's men on the road out of the basin. We gave them a drubbing they won't soon forget and they fled into the forest. We gave chase but they managed to lose us among the trees. They know these lands too well."

He turned back to Callisto.

"In answer to your earlier question, Caelon is the bane of these parts," he said. "He leads a sizable band of cut purses, murderers and outriders to terrorize settlements and trade across the whole region. We do our best to keep him from causing too much damage, but there are few of us and many of him."

Callisto frowned at Methades. She had no doubt that he was a capable commander. His men seemed loyal and their training was certainly a cut above most mercenary bands she had come across before. They were certainly far more capable than the average bandit riffraff that she had seen attack the village recently, that was for sure, but at the same time something about Methades did not sit right with her. He seemed too in love with himself, taking too much enjoyment from being a big fish in a truly tiny pond.

"How long have they been raiding around here?" she asked.

"Just over a year," Atrix replied, sounding more than a little embarrassed.

Callisto had just taken a mouth full of broth and nearly choked when Atrix spoke.

"A year!?" she managed to say between a fit of spluttering coughs. "What have you been doing that whole time? Sunbathing at the beach?"

"Now _that_ is a very good question," Silas said, pointing to Callisto with the wooden spoon he was using to eat his broth, but addressing himself directly to Methades. "The village has paid you and your men a small fortune in revenue over the past year Methades, and so far you've managed to do little more than chase down a couple of bandits and bring them back here for a quick hanging. Care to explain why you still haven't completed the job you have, at this point, been paid a substantial amount of money for?"

Methades eyed them both coolly.

"Caelon is a crafty opponent. These lands are filled with hidden valleys and pathways and he and his men have been living out amongst them for a year. By this point I would imagine they know of many ways to evade our patrols should they need to. Add to that the fact that Caelon's camp is mobile. He is not foolish enough to stay in one place for too long and he often uses feinting tactics, drawing us away with small raids or attacks whenever his main force moves."

"Question," said Callisto, raising her hand in mock innocence.

"What?" Methades said, his voice rife with disdain.

"I count fifteen of you," she said motioning to the table nearby where Tarthus and the rest of the mercenaries were seated and conversing about the merits of a sword versus a mace when used from horseback.

"The other day during the attack I counted at least double that number of bandits in the village. If they outnumber you, why not just ransack the village and move on?"

"Clearly they are afraid to face us in open combat," said Methades.

He straightened in his seat as he spoke and folded his arms imperiously.

"With two to one odds in their favour?" Callisto said in disbelief. "Somehow I highly doubt that."

"Then please, being as you've been here for all of two whole days, one of which you spent burned and unconscious in a bed upstairs, dazzle me with your rapier like assessment of the situation." Methades snapped at her.

Again Callisto found herself thinking of reaching out and snapping the pompous fool's neck with her bare hands.

"Well first of all, I would say that they have a different reason for not attacking in force than that they are scared of you," she said, doing her best to hold her temper. "Don't know if I can say what that reason is though."

Methades began a slow, painfully sarcastic applause.

"Brilliant," he sneered at her. "Simply brilliant. And have your razor sharp skills of analysis furnished you with any plan for dealing with this constant thorn in our side?"

Callisto nodded.

"Actually yes."

"They have?" said Dahlia leaning in close, her eyes widening with hope. "You mean you actually have a plan for dealing with Caelon?"

Callisto shrugged.

"I don't know about a plan," she said. "More of a recommendation really."

"So what is it?" said Atrix leaning closer in a similar manner to his wife.

"You said they are using the forest for cover right?"

"Right," Atrix nodded in agreement.

"Then burn it." she said simply.

Dahlia looked horrified.

"Burn the forest?" she said, her voice stunned.

Methades gave a dry laugh

"If you're chasing a rabbit, and he goes to ground, you leave no ground for him to go to," Callisto explained.

Dahlia and Atrix said nothing, both just sitting wide eyed in stunned silence. Methades turned to Silas.

"You see now why you hired me and my men? This woman's solution is the most preposterously idiotic thing I think I have ever heard."

Silas met Methades' stare without blinking.

"At least she is proposing some kind of solution," he said. "Not merely spending months caught up in fruitless patrols to little or no avail."

Methades gave a derisive snort and clambered up from the bench.

"Listen to this nonsense then if you wish." he snapped savagely. "Maybe next, she will suggest you all abandon the village so as to lure in Caelon, then blow the place sky high with the cunning application of cow dung and a tinder box. In the meantime, myself and my men will be doing something productive and patrolling the roads, keeping you and your village safe."

With that, he turned on his heel and stalked out of the inn, his men finishing up their breakfasts and following him. Callisto watched him go, before turning back to the others at the table.

"I really don't like that man," she said.

"And what would you know about it?" Atrix snapped at her. She was taken aback by the sudden venom in his voice.

"Atrix!" Dahlia gasped, leaping to Callisto's defence, but Atrix only glared angrily at her as well.

"I'm sorry Dahlia, but she shouldn't speak about the commander that way. He _has_ done a lot for this village as have I. He deserves better than to be spoken about as if he is some idiot recruit fresh out of spear training."

With that he stood from the table and gave them all a curt nod.

"If you'll excuse me, I have another 'fruitless' patrol to make."

He turned and strode out of the inn, not casting them a backward glance. Callisto watched him go and then turned back to the others

"So wonderful to have another warm welcome," she said sarcastically.

* * *

They did not spend much longer at breakfast. Silas quickly finished his food and then left, telling them he was off to sort through the rubble of his forge and try to salvage what equipment he could so he could attempt to continue his business. Callisto continued to eat her broth largely in silence while Dahlia made apologies for the behaviour of Methades and Atrix.

She let the other woman's words wash over her as her mind turned over the various pieces of information she had been given. Something about all this just did not sit right with her. By all rights, Penthos should have been reduced to ash and rubble months ago. Roving bands of undesirables like Caelon's men seldom left villages standing and they never haunted them like ghosts in the night for a year or possibly even longer, especially not when a trained mercenary group was drifting around the area. If she had been leading them, Callisto would have staged a feint attack to draw away the mercenaries and then attack the village, much as had happened the other day, but she would not have let it end there. She would have come in greater force, massacred the villagers and then slaughtered the mercenaries on the open road once the death of the village left them cut off from supply and shelter. This Caelon could have done the day before yesterday with very little effort. Why then had he stayed his hand? She may not have known him, but she knew his type. He was the kind of man who would not stop unless there was a reason to. The question was, what was his reason for sparing the village?

After a time she finished her food and decided to head outside for a breath of fresh air. Dahlia went with her, and Callisto felt strangely thankful for the company as they headed out of the inn. She found herself standing on the village green while all around her the villagers went about their business, repairing the damage done by the raid or carrying out their daily chores. It had been a long time since she had just stood and watched a village like this. A long time indeed.

A few people tossed greetings to her as they passed and, unsure how to react, she simply nodded in return. Dahlia came up at her side.

"They're happy to see you're doing okay," she said. "We lost a couple of people in the raid. We'd have lost three more if not for you."

She stroked her belly softly and Callisto gave a long sigh.

"Listen Dahlia," she began. "You people shouldn't be putting me on a pedestal. I'm not a hero."

"Facing down three bandits with a man who, less than an hour before had threatened to shoot you, and all to save a woman you'd never met." Dahlia smiled at her. "Sounds pretty heroic to me."

"You want to know the reason I helped?" Callisto said. It wasn't really a question.

"No, because I already know why you did it."

"Really," Callisto raised her eyebrows in mock astonishment. "Would you care to enlighten me then, because I haven't the faintest idea."

"My father used to tell me stories," Dahlia said as they walked across the green, "Myths and legends really, about great heroes and their adventures. I used to love to hear them. All the strange names and faraway places. Warriors with names like Oenomaus, Perseus and Cadmus. They all did great things in their lives, but do you know what I realised listening to those stories?"

"No," Callisto said, "but I have a feeling you're going to tell me anyway."

"I realised that the true heroes in those stories weren't the people who went on great quests or fought epic duels for the love of fair maidens. They weren't the people who launched a thousand ships or killed great beasts for treasure and renown. The real heroes were the one's who did what was necessary, not because they wanted to, but because they knew it was the right thing to do, and that if they didn't do it no one else would."

Callisto paused in her tracks leaving Dahlia to walk ahead for a moment. The other woman was a fool. She knew that now. All this talk of heroes and champions. What did she know of the world beyond this tiny village or of the true feelings that drove people's heroics or villainy? She was a fantasist and a fairly naive one at that.

Out of the corner of her eye she caught sight of the swinging feet of one of the hanged bandits at the center of the village green. She looked up at them, squinting against the bright morning sun. A large raven had perched itself at the top of the gallows, its head bobbing and twitching as it took in the village around it. Its black eyes rolled as they fixed upon her and it let out a baleful cry before taking wing to soar out over the stockade at the edge of the village and beyond her sight.

"You think you know me don't you?" Callisto said.

Dahlia nodded.

"I know that you're a good woman," she replied.

"And what about them?" Callisto said, a slight edge creeping into her voice as she pointed up at the dangling corpses. "Did you know them too?"

"No," Dahlia said, "but they were cruel men who preyed on the weak. They got what they deserved."

"And what did they get?" Callisto asked, her tone continuing to darken.

"Justice," was all Dahlia said in reply.

Callisto felt something ignite inside her at that, a spark in her gut that quickly flared into a roaring fire. This girl had no idea what she was talking about. She had never experienced the suffering that these kind of people could wreak, that she herself had wrought.

"You sound like your father," she snorted. "You don't know these men, the things they did, the things they were capable of. I do and this..." she thrust her finger savagely at the ropes fastened around their necks,"...this was too good for them. Too quick and painless."

Dahlia looked taken aback by Callisto's sudden viciousness. She lifted a hand protectively to her stomach.

"They hurt and kill, and all for their own selfish gain. We make it so that they can never do it to others," she said defensively. "It's the only language they understand."

"No!" Callisto snapped at her. "What you do to them is an occupational hazard. They live with death every day. The fear of it won't stop them. The only language they understand isn't justice, it's pain! Pain and suffering! You don't need to kill them. You need to hurt them. Only when their pain is greater than yours will you be able to be free of them."

She leaned in close to the other woman, her brown eyes blazing hard, but cold. To her surprise, Dahlia managed to stand her ground, shrinking only slightly in the face of Callisto's fury.

"That's not justice," she said softly. "That's torture."

"Call it whatever you like," Callisto snarled. "It's what is necessary if you want true freedom. Now I'm more than capable of delivering it to them if you want me to. Still think it makes me a hero?"

Dahlia stared her in the eye for a moment longer.

"I guess my father was right," she said finally, her expression not one of fear, just overwhelming sadness.

"And what is that supposed to mean?" Callisto said, still leaning threateningly in at the other woman.

Dahlia gave a shake of her head.

"He said that you were dangerous, that we shouldn't trust you. It looks like he wasn't wrong."

She turned and began to walk away, drawing to a stop after a couple of steps. She threw a look back over her shoulder.

"It's a such a shame," she said. "I so wanted him to be."

Callisto watched her leave, trying to calm herself with long even breaths. Finally she reached out and leaned against the gallows, letting out a long sigh as she did so. A number of villagers were staring at her in astonishment. Presumably they had just been witness to her little outburst.

"Keep looking at me like that and I'll gouge out your eyes!" she snapped at them. That did the trick and moments later she was left all alone, her back pressed up against the gallows. With a long low groan she sank down to the ground, crossing her legs and closing her eyes. For a long time, she just sat and listened to the sounds of the village around her; the birds in the air, the hustle and bustle of daily life. It was almost soothing in a way despite the ache she felt in her throat when she thought about it too closely.

She tried to think about Caelon and his men to take her mind off things. What game were they playing and why? In spite of her efforts though, she found herself unable to concentrate on the issue. Dahlia and her hurt expression kept returning to her, casting her mind back still further to a fireside game of truth or dare with Gabrielle. That seemed so long ago now but still she had reacted the same way. Someone had tried to reach out to her, to connect with her on some level for gods only knew whatever reason, and in return she had lashed out at them, doing her very best to hurt them.

And why?

For the life of her, she could not think of a reason why, beyond that in the past it had offered her some small measure of satisfaction. Like so many other things that had once amused her though, now it just left her feeling empty... hollow...

"Excuse me, but may I trouble you a moment?"

Callisto opened her eyes. It was one of the men she had seen at the inn; the ones dressed in the crimson robes that Atrix had called 'Followers'. He was standing over her, his hands tucked into voluminous sleeves, his head bowed forward with his gaze fixed upon the floor. The other two men she had seen with him earlier were standing a little further back, their heads bowed in the same manner. She blinked. That was strange. At first she had thought him an old man, but the longer she looked at him the less certain of his age she became. His skin was wrinkled like ancient parchment, but at the same time it seemed to possess the glow of youth.

"What do you want?" she said, not really caring whether he answered or not.

The man lifted his eyes from the ground to meet hers. They were a blue so pale it bordered on grey, but they flashed with the vigour of a man half his age. He cleared his throat like an orator preparing to address an audience.

"My name is Pelion," he said. "And my brothers and I have a proposal to make."

Callisto regarded him levelly.

"Go on," she said.

"Myself and my brothers here are members of an ancient order of worship," he continued, unfolding his hands and gesturing out of the village toward where the basin marked the horizon. "These lands are most important to us, strewn as they are with the remains of our ancient sacred places. We travel to these sites the year round on pilgrimage. You may even have seen them yourself? The outcrops that dot the plains above..."

Callisto nodded.

"I've seen them. I went inside one at a crossroads just to the north on the main trail out of here."

Pelion nodded sagely.

"Ah yes," he said. "I know it well. We call it the Headstone."

"The Headstone?" Callisto shuddered at the sound of that. It had an ominous ring to it.

Pelion nodded again.

"Yes. It marks the resting place of the foremost of our order in days long gone."

"And what does this have to do with me?" Callisto asked.

"Quite simple really. We heard tell of your deeds at the blacksmith's forge, and of the difficulty Methades and his men had in bringing you here. All suggest that you are a most resourceful warrior, one of strong blood and spirit."

He smiled in what Callisto thought was supposed to be an ingratiating manner. Instead it just made her feel uneasy.

"We have need of an escort," the old man continued. "As I am sure you are aware, the roads around here are not as safe as they once were. You would only need to come with us as far as the Headstone and..."

"As far as the Headstone," she murmured to herself. Suddenly it clicked, as the memory flashed clear in her mind. It was an image of Methades and a clinking bag of Dinars.

She leaped to her feet, not even glancing at Pelion and his followers, and took off at a run for the blacksmith's forge. She had a feeling Silas would want to hear this.

She never even noticed Pelion watch her go, a dark smile spreading across his face. Slowly and calmly he tucked his hands back into the sleeves of his robe, before turning back to face his compatriots.

"And now brothers, all we must do is wait," he said.

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: **Well, I've now made it to 200 plus views and one hundred plus visitors to this story. Again not sure if that really means much, but I'm at least taking it to mean I've picked up some people who are actually following a long. Should anyone have any feedback please feel free to let me know. Constructive criticism is always welcome.

The main reason this chapter took so long is that it proved to be a real bugger to write. It's largely an exposition chapter with a little character work thrown in to give a better idea of some of the supporting cast and how they behave. To be honest, writing these kind of chapters where not much actually happens but there is a lot of information to communicate, I find terribly difficult. Trying to steer the whole thing in a way that feels natural and not too forced is the real uphill battle for me, and was one of the reasons I chose to revisit these old stories of mine in the first place. I wanted to see if I could tie things together better than I did back then. So far it's been okay, but has caused me a number of headaches as I have to flesh out back story and world build a little bit for stuff that will come in later stories should I eventually manage to write them. For those of you who are flagging with these more talky past couple of chapters, they have mainly been to set up the events of the third and final act.

Anyway, hope you are all enjoying and I hope to be back with another update soon.


	9. Chapter Eight: A Wake of Ash

**Chapter Eight: A Wake of Ash**

The forge was in ruins. That was the first thing Callisto noticed when she arrived. For a while she just stood, taking in the wreckage that she had wrought. The roof of the building had collapsed in the fire, taking the upper story and half of the walls with it. The flaming thatch had tumbled down into the building, spreading the fire to everything inside until all that was left was a charred and blackened shadow of the home it had once been. She fought the urge to shiver at the sight of scorched stone and ash and the unwelcome memories it conjured.

Silas was inside, sifting through the pile of rubble. Occasionally he would reach down to lift a chunk of stone from the collapsed wall and toss it to one side before retrieving something from the ground that had previously been buried. Callisto watched as he pulled free a set of metal tongs and looked them over. They had been wedged beneath several burning roof beams. The heat and pressure placed upon them had warped them into a twisted shape that prevented them from opening and closing properly. He let out a heavy sigh and tossed them aside with an accompanying clang of metal on stone. As he did so, he caught sight of her for the first time. His face was streaked with soot and ash from his salvaging and his thick hair was slick with sweat from the effort of moving some of the larger chunks of stone.

"What brings you here?" he said, turning back to his work.

"I wanted to tell you something," Callisto began, but confronted with the sight of him picking through the remnants of his life, she was unsure how to continue.

Silas only grunted in response. He bent and began to heave at a huge chunk of fallen stone, the muscles in his broad arms bunching and pulling tight as he strained against the weight. The stone didn't so much as budge an inch.

Callisto moved to his side, crouching next to the stone and wrapping her fingers around it. She doubted she could match Silas' raw strength but two were always stronger than one.

"Here," she said. "Let me help."

Silas fixed her with a brief look of confusion then relented and gave a nod. Together the two of them pushed and pulled at the fallen chunk of wall, gradually working it loose with a grind of stone against stone. Callisto could feel the sweat of exertion beading at the small of her back and on her forehead as the stone finally came free.

"Thank you," Silas said, his breath a little ragged.

They stood in silence for a moment, his eyes looking her up and down quizzically. For some reason the old blacksmith did not seem to be afraid of her. There was something about that Callisto found refreshing, but oddly, also a little disconcerting. She felt almost… naked somehow. In the past she had been a figure of terror across all of Greece, and she had liked it that way. It kept people away from her and left her alone nursing her bitterness and hate. Now though, underneath Silas' keen gaze, she felt oddly defenseless.

"It's strange," he said finally. "I saw what you were capable of at Delphi, and then I heard even more stories about the rampaging army of Callisto and all the terrible things you had done. But now you're in my forge, helping me salvage what little I can of my life. It's not what I would've expected from you."

Callisto grinned at him impishly.

"I do my best to astonish and confound," she said.

Silas gave one of his dry snorts of amusement.

"So it would seem, but there's still the lingering question as to why?"

"Why what?"

"Why help us? Why save Atrix and my daughter, why come here alone, and then why agree to just pick up and leave when I asked you to." His brow furrowed as he continued to regard her questioningly. "None of it adds up."

"I didn't think you cared about the math," Callisto said, squatting down in the rubble as she did so and poking at some loose ash with the toe of her boot.

Silas shrugged.

"Indulge me," he said.

Callisto gave a frustrated sigh. What _was_ the reason why?

"Would you believe that I don't even know?" she said. She was unsure how much of the story to tell him, and even less certain how much he would believe if she even tried to tell him half of it.

"I was supposed to be dead," she said, settling for vagueness over explicit detail. "That was the deal, all cut, dried and simple. Me dead and gone and finally, maybe, a shred of peace. The world would've been free of me, and I'd have been free of it."

She looked up from the ash, fixing her gaze on a level with Silas'. She half expected him to speak but instead he only crossed his arms.

"Then suddenly, I'm opening my eyes," she continued, "which I was never supposed to do again incidentally, and nothing's the way I was promised it would be. Instead there's a new deal, and I find myself here, having to honour it and play the 'champion', whatever that might mean."

She dropped her gaze back to the ashes and began to poke at them again.

"Never mind that I'm probably the least suitable person in the world to play the hero. Never mind that half of Greece would be happy to lynch me while the other half would be just as happy to sit and watch. A deal's a deal, and I don't really have much choice than to do my best, and to try to live up to my side of the bargain."

The ash stirred and swirled at her touch, dancing lightly on the air before settling back to the ground. There was something mournful about it that made her sigh.

"A champion?" Silas said eventually, his tone one of disbelief.

"Of the gods no less," Callisto replied ruefully.

"How is someone like you supposed to be a champion?"

She fixed him with an irritated stare.

"I don't know!" she said, slapping the palms of her hands down hard against her knees in a gesture of anger. "I don't what I'm supposed to do, or why I'm supposed to do it! All I'm certain of is that there's no way back from this. I can't go back to who I was, who I know how to be!"

Silas seemed to consider that a moment.

"That's probably a good thing," he said finally.

"Maybe for you and your little village here," Callisto snapped at him angrily. Why could she not sort out the answers in her head? Why had everything been turned upside down and inside out since she'd woken up on the stone slab in Hades' Fortress.

"For me it's... it's..." she shot to her feet and let out a cry of pure, impotent anger. "GAAAAH! It's like torture! I can't even decide how I'm supposed to feel about any of this! Everything's just so different now! Nothing feels right anymore!"

She scrubbed her hands in her thick blonde hair in complete frustration, tousling it until it stuck out madly in all directions.

"Marauding, pillaging and murdering was right?" Silas said, cocking an eyebrow at her.

"Would you stop that!" she said, annoyed by his uncanny knack for tying her thinking in knots. "You're not helping."

"My apologies for stating the obvious," Silas shot back, his voice awash with sarcasm

"Accepted," Callisto said smugly, enjoying her small mental victory as Silas rolled his eyes in irritation.

"Still," she continued, folding her arms tightly across her chest, "my frustration would appear to be to your gain. If I'm supposed to be championing about the countryside and the like, then I had better get started somewhere and here, right now, would seem to be as good a place as any."

Silas' eyes narrowed.

"What are you saying?" he said.

"I'm saying you have a bandit problem and that I'm particularly good at dealing with violent individuals," she said, smiling wickedly as she did so.

Silas looked at her suspiciously.

"That sounds more like what I would expect from you," he said, his tone worried. "I told you, I do not want you bringing your brand of destruction here. We have a solution already."

"A solution that's managed to cool its heels for over a year and still hasn't produced results," Callisto replied. "If I was paying these mercenaries I'd be asking for my money back."

"You'd _ask_?" Silas said, sounding genuinely surprised.

Callisto scrubbed a hand across her eyes.

"Can we get off the subject of me and back to your bandit problem?" she said, then leaned forward. "Silas, mercenaries don't take years to do jobs. It's bad for business and it makes them look inefficient. On top of that, Caelon's band outnumbers Methades' men, and large gangs of roving thugs aren't really renowned for their sense of restraint..."

"You should know," Silas interrupted but Callisto ignored him.

"...and you have a situation that just doesn't make sense," she continued. "Think about it! Why would someone like Caelon leave this village standing, and proceed to haunt it like a ghost in the night for a year? The only reason is if..."

A look of realisation passed over Silas' features.

"...is if there was a greater benefit to leaving the village standing than to leveling it," he said.

Callisto nodded at him.

"Exactly!" she said. "I don't think Caelon's here to steal from you. I think he's here to scare you."

Silas frowned.

"But why? Why come here just to scare us?"

"Why does a man like Caelon do anything?" Callisto said with a shrug. "Because there's a reward for doing it."

"Who would be rewarding him to attack us?"

She eyed Silas seriously.

"How much are you paying Methades?" she asked.

"Around four hundred dinars a month," Silas said, then his eyes widened. "Wait a minute, you can't mean..."

"That kind of money would split very nicely two ways," Callisto said, her voice taking on a sing song quality as she attempted to persuade him.

Silas seemed to think about it for a moment then shook his head.

"No," he said eventually. "Methades and his men have too good a reputation, and I certainly don't believe Atrix would be a part of anything so base as that kind of scam."

Callisto spread her palms wide.

"I didn't say Atrix, or even any of the others were in on it," she said. "But you have to admit it's possible though. In the inn this morning it didn't seem to me like you entirely trusted Methades or his methods."

Silas' eyes hardened at that.

"He's a hired killer, as are his men. I trust them about as far as I trust you," he said, glaring at her as he did so.

Callisto tilted her head coyly.

"Wow," she said. "That little huh?"

Silas only shrugged and she gave another nod.

"Probably wise," she said. "But what if I told you I think I can show proof of my little theory to you."

"I'd say tell me before I get any older."

"Did I detect a little bit of fire there?" Callisto grinned. "I like it."

"Would you just come out with it?" Silas said with an exasperated sigh.

"I can't just show it to you because I don't have it with me."

"Well where is it then?" Silas was sounding more and more irritated with each passing moment.

Callisto let the corner of her mouth twitch up in a half smile.

"How would you feel about a little trip?" she said.

* * *

Caelon's thick set war horse stirred beneath him as he sat astride it, doing his best to keep the beast under control. In truth he should never have stolen the thing. It was temperamental at best and down right vicious at worst. He had nearly lost a hand trying to feed it, and more often than not he had to wrestle with the reins to keep it from bolting when they went into a raid. It was undoubtedly the finest horse his band had access to however, and so naturally he was the only one allowed to ride it.

It trotted sideways slightly and he gave the reins a sharp tug to keep the thing in line. It snorted but settled quickly and he went back to watching the tree line as a number of other mounted bandits emerged into the clearing. At his back his men stirred uneasily. He had not brought everyone with him. Only the few men he could trust to ride at his back. The rest he had left to make preparations with the exception of Herriod who he had taken special care to bring along. Leaving him alone with the others would have been a recipe for disaster.

The big bearded man was mounted alongside him now, his horse a smaller but still sizable gelding, and Caelon almost envied him the gentler animal. His horse shied away from Caelon's more aggressive stallion and the movement caused Herriod to lift a hand to his pained ribs. Caelon gave a satisfied smile at that. Herriod wouldn't forget the beating he had received in a hurry.

"I don't like this," Herriod said, shifting uncomfortably in his saddle.

Caelon gave a snort of derision and his stallion tossed its head, echoing his snort with a loud one of its own.

"Since when do you like any decisions I make?" he said. The thick set man eyed him warily.

"I've followed you this long haven't I?" he said.

"And haven't I always steered us right?" Caelon answered. "We made a lot of money here. A lot more than we would have done if we'd just torched the place and headed for the hills."

"Me 'n the others just thought it might be time to move on is all," Herriod said, and Caelon could tell he was trying to keep his voice even and non confrontational. "Staying in one place too long is risky."

"Well we're moving on now ain't we?" Caelon said. "One last raid to squeeze the place for all its worth 'n then back to what we do best."

"Why bring Sev into it then?" Herriod replied. "His boys ain't ours. Who says he'll do what we tell him?"

Caelon cocked an eyebrow at Herriod.

"_We_?" he said dangerously.

"What _you_ tell him," Herriod corrected hurriedly.

Caelon gave the other man a slight nod.

"Because there's a profit to be made 'n he can share in it," he said, as if the slip had never happened. "I don't want to take any chances, especially with this new woman in the picture. Overwhelming force to crush Penthos, then divide the spoils 'n go our separate ways. Sev's a smart enough man. He'll see the good outweighs the bad. You should too."

Normally he would not have shared so much with a man he knew was planning to stick a knife in him at some point, but for the time being he needed Herriod and his followers. He'd already used the stick with him. Now it was time to lead him with a carrot for a little while, and the promise of money to be made was usually more than enough to make others toe the line.

Herriod only slumped in his saddle and scowled darkly.

"Still don't like it," he said, his voice almost petulant.

It was not really the response Caelon had hoped for, but it would do for the time being. He gave his steed a slight dig with his heels, urging it forward at a gentle trot to ride and meet the new arrivals.

At the head of them rode a man somewhere between Caelon and Herriod in terms of build. His hair was shorn down to the scalp making its original colour impossible to tell. He wore a leather jerkin open down the chest, exposing a crisscrossing network of scars to the open air. The most distinctive feature of him however, was his missing right hand. He had lost it in a raid on some Persian merchants that had gone badly for all concerned. Sev had lost his hand, the merchants had lost their lives.

Caelon drew his horse up in front of them and Sev trotted up to meet him, the two men looked each other up and down as they did so. Behind him Caelon could hear his entourage tightening their grips on their weapons, and the creak of leather saddles as some shifted uneasily.

The silence seemed to last forever, the two men sitting and eyeing each other. Occasionally it would be disturbed by the sound of a horse flicking its tail, or an uncomfortable cough coming from either man's band. Finally a broad smile revealing a mouth of yellowed and broken teeth split Sev's face. Caelon did his best not to sigh in relief and plastered a similar toothy grin across his own face.

"Caelon!" Sev said, his smile widening. "It's been a while!"

"Two years," Caelon replied. "And a lot of money in between."

Sev nodded.

"I heard about the scam you've been running on the yokels in these parts. What's the deal with it? You trying to go legit or something?"

Caelon shook his head.

"I look it at like keeping sheep," he replied. "You keep 'em safe, then every now 'n then you sheer them and make a tidy profit on the wool."

Sev laughed.

"Never took you for a shepherd," he said, "and I certainly ain't one for sheering. Now a butcher on the other hand, that I could go with. Steady hours, your pick of the prime cuts, 'n a lot of job satisfaction."

He tapped at the pommel of his sword meaningfully as he spoke.

"That's why I called for you," Cealon said. "Y'see, our little flock seems to have developed a condition."

"Oh?" Sev smiled again. "And what condition would that be?"

"Suspicion," Caelon replied.

Sev sucked at his teeth in mock thoughtfulness.

"Nasty condition that," he said. "Some of the boys assure me its terminal."

Caelon nodded.

"And fast acting, which is why we need to move quickly on this ourselves," he said.

"Cull the flock, am I right?" Sev said, grinning darkly.

"And sell the meat," Caelon nodded again. "But its a big 'ol flock and I want some extra muscle to hurry things along."

Sev leaned forward in his saddle.

"I'm listening," was his only reply.

"I've got our monthly take to collect," Caelon said. "You get half of that before the raid, then a quarter of whatever we manage to carry off afterward."

Sev seemed to think about that.

"A third," he said finally. "I'm assuming you have a silent partner in all of this, eyes 'n ears of some kind."

"A quarter," Caelon replied firmly. "I got double the boys you do, and yes, there's another party who needs a bit of the take as well, business bein' business 'n all."

Sev continued to look at him, his eyes completely cold and impenetrable. Finally he a gave a curt nod as he eyed up Caelon's men.

"You got yourself a deal," he said.

He lifted his remaining hand and spat on his palm then proffered it to Caelon. Caelon did the same and grasped the other man's forearm tightly.

"On one condition," he said as they shook hands.

"Name it."

"I want my up front pay now. No waiting."

Caelon smiled.

"That's why I like you Sev," he sneered sarcastically. "You're such a trustworthy guy."

Sev's smile was equally predatory.

"How my poppa taught me to be, right before I gutted him. Now, my pay..." He let the final words hang in the air.

Caelon turned his horse and began to ride for the tree line, Herriod and the rest of his men falling in behind him. Sev just watched him with eyes narrowed.

"Come on then," Caelon called back to him. "Its time to get your money."


	10. Chapter Nine: Leave Takings

**Chapter Nine: Leave Takings**

Callisto led the two horses out of the stables behind the inn, their reins gripped tightly in her hand. She had called in the debt the inn keeper had said he owed her and wound up with the animals he used to pull his cart when he rode to nearby settlements. Callisto had thought they would make better time mounted,but truth be told, from the looks of the two animals, they would have been better off walking. Both were old dappled nags with thin frames and an even step that was more suitable for children learning to ride for the first time than it was for serious cross country work. Still, she would have to live with what she had, and according to the inn keeper they were the best that was available beyond the horses used by the mercenaries. Considering her relationship with Methades and her doubts about him, she did not expect him to lend her any of his animals willingly. Besides, Methades, Atrix and the other mercenaries were still out on patrol rendering the whole issue moot.

She rounded the corner of the inn and immediately spotted Silas and Dahlia speaking quietly. Silas had a comforting hand on his daughter's shoulder and she wore a concerned expression on her face. Callisto was pretty certain she could guess what they were talking about. For some reason she could not fathom that seemed to bother her more than she thought it should, and certainly more than it would have in the past. Why did she care what some pregnant blacksmith's daughter thought of her? The image of Dahlia's terrified eyes in the burning house came back to her, but for some reason it was not only Dahlia's eyes she saw. Instead there were many more, dozens upon dozens of them, all wide and filled with horror at the sight of her. Some of them she recognised more than others, but all of them seemed familiar.

She blinked several times to dispel the unbidden memories. Taking a deep breath, her shoulders squaring, her back straightening, she affected the confident but poised stride that had always come so easily to her before and began to head toward them both.

The two of them turned to face her, Silas looking resigned, Dahlia looking unimpressed. She did her best to look unphased by Dahlia's even stare as she came closer.

"Am I interrupting something?" she said.

"Nothing that can't be discussed later," said Silas, casting a warning glance at Dahlia before crossing to the horses.

He placed a rough and calloused hand on the muzzle of one of them and the animal let out a soft snort and nuzzled against his palm. Being a blacksmith, he clearly had a way with horses. Callisto was fairly certain that if she had done the same the beast would have tried to bite her. She had never had much of a way with animals.

Dahlia folded her arms with a harrumph.

"Just be careful on the road," she said, never taking her eyes off Callisto. "I know traveling by daylight is quieter but that doesn't make it safe."

"I'm sure Eve here is more than capable of taking care of me," Silas replied, turning back to face her. "And besides, I'm hardly defenceless."

For the first time, Callisto noticed the heavy looking blacksmith's hammer hanging through a loop at his waist. She supposed it would make a handy weapon in a pinch, but thinking about it, she suddenly realised she didn't have a weapon of her own. She was certain she could handle anything that they might come across outside the village, but still, a weapon of her own would have been useful.

As if on cue Silas produced a slim stiletto dagger from his belt and turned to Callisto.

"Here," he said, handing it to her. "I think you could use something like this out there more than me."

Callisto's slim fingers wrapped around the hilt, and immediately something about it felt right to her. She flipped it a couple of times, its blade flashing brightly in the sun as she did so. The weight was finely balanced and the hilt well wrapped. It was not so smooth that it would slip easily from her grasp, but nor was it so ornate as to be uncomfortable in her grip.

She looked up at him. Out of the corner of her eye she could see Dahlia watching her uneasily.

"It's perfect," she said, and she was sure she saw the other woman shiver at that. "Where did you get it?"

"I didn't always make my living shoeing horses and fixing wagons," said Silas, and with that he pulled himself up into his mount's saddle. "Now we should get moving if we're going to make it to the Headstone and back before dusk."

Callisto nodded, not needing to hear anymore about Silas' past, and vaulted easily onto the back of her own horse. The two of them turned their horses and Silas began to ease his horse forward in the direction of the village gates at a steady trot.

Callisto was about to follow suit when she felt a hand at her knee. She looked down to see Dahlia staring up at her, her eyes filled with worry.

"Eve, I don't care about what you said before. I think you're a good woman, even if you don't think so yourself."

She glanced in Silas' direction.

"My father has always tried to defend the village however he can," she continued, "but it's different now. He has a grandchild on the way, and he's getting too old to be going out and playing the hero like in one of his stories. Please, I'm begging you, just bring him back safe."

Callisto was not sure what to say. For a moment all she could think of was the imploring look in Dahlia's eyes. She had had people beg her before many many times from many different mouths, and always for their own lives or the lives of those closest to them. She had spared a few of them, mainly for her own reasons, but most of the pleas she had heard had gone unanswered, or even been met with sneering disgust. This was different, but she could not put her finger on why. Finally she gave a simple, slight nod, then urged her horse forward to catch up with Silas.

She reached the blacksmith after only a minute or two, and soon the two of them were riding together over the open grass that surrounded the village and then up the track that lead north through the forest and out of the basin. She suspected the ride would be a simple one. Atrix and the other mercenaries were out patrolling, and Silas had said that usually kept the bandits at bay. Caelon's men apparently had a tendency to roam fairly far and wide during the day and rarely massed in large numbers. Callisto presumed it was to keep the mercenaries guessing as to the locations of their camps, but if her theory was correct then the presence of the mercenaries would not factor into it at all. The bandits stayed away because it was more worth their while to do their business elsewhere, and merely make an occasional raid or attack to keep the villagers of Penthos living in fear and paying their mercenary protectors.

They rode in silence for the most part, Silas not seeming particularly interested in small talk and Callisto uncertain as to how she would make it even if he had been. The silence suited her better anyway. She simply did not have anything to say. Instead she cast her mind back to their conversation at the forge earlier that day.

Silas had been right to ask what sort of champion she was supposed to be. All her adult life she had had one goal, and one goal only. Make Xena suffer. Then suddenly, and completely unexpectedly she had achieved it. She had sat alone in the dark and listened to the screams of her most hated enemy as they discovered that their own family, their own blood had been taken from them the same way they had taken hers from her. She had just sat there and listened to those agonised cries of anguish, luxuriating in them and the calm they had brought her. For the briefest moment she had been free; free of all the hate and rage, free of all the fire and bile that had burned inside her for so very very long. Then it had all come washing back over her again like a tremendous tidal wave, picking her up and tugging her this way and that when all she had wanted was for it all to stop. Since that day, she had realised that there was no peace to be found for her, and by extension, no place in the world for her either. When the opportunity had come for her to die, to truly end her suffering, she had jumped at it.

The fact that it had not worked was most vexing to say the least.

She glanced up at the sky. The sun was well past its zenith now and the shadows of the trees were beginning to lengthen in the mid afternoon light as they emerged from the forest that covered the majority of the basin. The trail ran steadily northward the way she remembered, up and out of the basin toward the crossroads. The sound of their horses' steady trot filled the quiet country air, the only other sound being the distant wash of the ocean against the shore and the occasional bird song.

Their journey up and out of the basin was as quiet and uneventful as their ride through the forest. As they crested the lip of the basin, Callisto caught sight of the landscape beyond. As she remembered, the trail ran north with another thick forest to the east. To the west was all rolling hills and grassy plains, dotted with the same rocky outcrops she had seen before. Again, she was struck by how out of place they all seemed, as if they had been dropped on the landscape from a great height and then just left to molder there.

Ahead she could make out the distant shape of the outcrop with the temple carved into it where she had first met Atrix and Methades. The place had been strange, like no temple she had ever visited before. In many ways she was as curious about it as she was the mystery of events unfolding in the basin below.

"The Headstone," she began thoughtfully as they followed the trail.

"Yes?" Silas said

"What do you know about it?"

"Not much really. It's old. It's been here since before I was born. They all have."

Callisto frowned.

"What do you mean?" she asked.

Silas gestured to the other outcrops that dotted the horizon.

"They're all like that," he said. "Most of them just have a shrine carved into the side or something similar, but a couple of have been hollowed out to make temples. The Headstone's just the biggest one, and its the only one with that weird stone block inside."

Callisto remembered it well, that huge lump of rock seemingly left untouched when the rest of the temple had been hollowed out. It had had a strange atmosphere about it and she remembered how bitingly cold it had been to the touch.

"So it is a temple then?" she said.

"I don't really know. Looks a lot like one inside though, and Pelion and his followers certainly seem to think so." He twisted in his saddle to face her. "You met him right?"

"Older guy, red robes, kind of cooky?" Callisto said.

"That's him," Silas nodded. "Strange man. He turned up a couple of years ago, right after I came back from Delphi come to think of it. He was preaching that weird little cult of his. Said this place was his sacred ground. I've even heard him call it the graveyard of his faith, whatever that might mean."

"Just him?" Callisto said. "What about the others?"

"Oh, they're villagers. Perites and Marsus. Good young lads, but misguided. Perites used to be my assistant until Pelion started talking with him." Silas sounded disapproving.

"You don't like him?" Callisto said, an edge of sarcasm creeping into her tone. "Can't imagine why that might be."

Silas chose to ignore her tone of voice and simply answered her first question instead.

"I don't like what he represents," he said. "When he came, the fishing along the coast was bad. I'd been to Delphi to consult with the Oracle but you had put paid to that little audience."

Callisto only gave an apologetic 'what can you do' shrug of her shoulders to which Silas gave only a long suffering sigh.

"We'd already been praying and sacrificing to Poseidon for months." he continued. "It was no use though, the fishing didn't improve and then a sickness hit the village as well. I lost my wife and Dahlia lost her mother. We got desperate and tried praying to Zeus, and Hades, and any other gods we thought would listen. None of them did."

He shook his head ruefully.

"Sounds like the gods to me," Callisto said.

"What would you know about it?" Silas snapped at her.

"More than you," she shot back. They stared at each other for a moment in silence, before Silas went back to his tale.

"That was when Pelion showed up. He commiserated with us, apologised for our misfortune, then offered his help. The entire village went up and gathered around the Headstone while he went inside and prayed to that strange old god of his. He asked if two of the younger men could come inside as well, to help him with the chanting he said. Perites and Marsus volunteered. After that night they were never quite the same again. They took to following him around and eventually he pledged them into that weird religion of his. They call each other brothers and they spend their time wandering the countryside, preying at those shrines and temples. They come back to the village sometimes for supplies and such, but most of the villagers do their best to ignore them."

Callisto fought to suppress a shiver. This sounded suspiciously like the cult of Dahak to her. Not a religion known for its mercy or tolerance though, more for sticky cocoons and flying daggers.

"And did it work?" she asked.

"Did what work?" Silas replied.

"Pelion's praying. Did his god listen?"

Silas gave a dismissive gesture.

"Who knows. I'm no Oracle or priest. All I know was that within a month the disease had run its course and no one else had died, then within another month the fishing began to improve."

"Hardly a miraculous recovery," Callisto said.

"Maybe, maybe not," was all Silas had left to say on the matter.

The Headstone was looming close now and the afternoon sun was drawing toward the horizon, the lengthening shadows from the forest to the east splaying out across the hillside like a hundred grasping fingers. Callisto urged her horse forward at a brisker trot, wanting to get this over with and be away from the Headstone as soon as possible. Something about the place unnerved her.

It took them only a few more minutes to reach the Headstone. As she had seen Methades and his men do the day before last, Callisto hitched the horses to a nearby low lying bit of scrub and proceeded inside. Silas followed close behind her. Inside the main temple chamber all was silence. It was also a lot dimmer than she remembered, but then she had been here earlier in the day last time. The fading afternoon sun provided less light and the lump of misshapen stone at the far end of the temple now cast a long shadow that loomed ominously up the wall behind it.

"So," said Silas, drawing even with her, one hand resting casually on the top of the hammer at his waist, "you've dragged me out here. Care to tell me what this place has to do with Methades?"

Callisto glanced at him then wordlessly crossed the room to the incense burner she had seen Methades at the other day. Taking a deep breath and hoping nothing had changed since then, she reached down and tugged it open. Inside sat the same pouch she had seen Methades place there the day before last. She reached in and hefted the surprisingly heavy bag before turning and tossing it through the air to Silas.

"Catch," she said.

Silas caught the bag in both hands and gave a surprised grunt at the weight of it, causing him to fumble it and drop it to the ground. It spilled open with a clatter of metal on stone, disgorging a number of thick round coins onto the floor around it. Silas stood for a moment, a confused frown on his face. The coins glinted dully back at him in the dim light from outside.

"It can't be," he said simply, clearly understanding what Callisto had brought him here to see.

"I saw Methades hiding them here the other day," Callisto said as she walked back over to him. "I'm betting if you counted them, you'd find exactly two hundred dinars in that pouch."

"A fifty-fifty split," Silas said quietly.

Callisto nodded

"And more than enough to cover a bandit gang for a month. Methades has been paying Caelon to raid you, terrorise you, make you live in fear and ultimately make you need a mercenary gang. Quite a clever little scheme really."

He looked up at her.

"It can't be!" he said. "There are plenty of other reasons that could explain this."

Callisto only folded her arms and looked at him.

"Name one," she said.

"Hiding the money for safety," Silas ventured.

Callisto gave a mocking laugh.

"Safety!?" she said, and placed her hands on her hips. "Silas, if you want to keep this amount of money safe, you keep it near you. You don't hide it a two hour ride away in a place where any passer by could stumble upon it. Not to mention the fact that Pelion comes here from time to time. This place is fairly well trafficked. Even if that was the case, why only hide half? Why not hide the full amount?"

"Then why hide it here at all?" Silas shot back at her.

"A drop point," she replied. "An easy way to exchange the money without having to meet in person. Methades can't risk being seen with Caelon or the whole thing goes up in smoke."

A look of horror dawned on Silas' face as Callisto spoke.

"But that could mean..." he trailed off and turned on his heel, darting out of the temple.

Callisto frowned as he left. What had that been about? She bent and began to gather the money back into the pouch. This evidence would prove useful for proving Methades' treachery to the other villagers. She just hoped the other mercenaries were not in on the whole thing, or that at the very least not all of them were. She had the feeling that Atrix most likely was not, but as for the others, there she was less certain. The only reason she had to suspect that they might not be in on the whole thing was that Methades had waited until he was alone to hide the pouch.

She let out a long sigh of relief as she straightened, the pouch dangling from between her fingers. Her one worry this whole time had been that Caelon and his men would have already come to the temple, and that the pouch would have already been taken. The pouch still being here was also a cause for concern however. The first concern was most obviously that Silas might be right, that the reason the pouch was here was because there was no deal, and that Methades was simply not terribly clever in how he handled his money. The second was that she was right and Caelon simply had not collected it yet.

Her toughts trailed off as she realised what Silas had been thinking when he had darted from the temple a moment before. As if on cue she heard an alarmed cry from outside and the sound of footsteps on stone as Silas ran back inside.

"Callisto!" he shouted as he burst into the temple.

"Let me guess," she said. "We've got company?"

Silas only nodded.

"And it's not the friendly kind of company is it?"

Silas shook his head.

"No its not," he said.

Callisto cursed. They would have to think fast.

"Are they mounted?" she asked.

Silas nodded again.

"I think there were around twenty of them," he said, beginning to sweat nervously. "They were still at a distance though, so I couldn't get an exact count."

Callisto's mind raced. She doubted their horses could outrun Caelon's. Considering the state of the nags, she did not think that they would have had much of a chance even if Caelon and his men had been on foot! Maybe if they could get a head start though, and make it to the nearby forest, they could loose him in the trees. Twenty men on horseback would have a harder time in the woods than two. The odds would even up considerably.

"Okay," she began. "Get back outside and start unhitching the horses. As soon as you're saddled make for the forest."

She turned glancing hurriedly around the room.

"What about you?" Silas asked.

"I've got to hide this," she said, jangling the coin pouch for emphasis.

"I'm not leaving you here to face them alone," he said, hefting his hammer.

Callisto rolled her eyes at him.

"I don't plan to martyr myself so you can get away," she said. "I'm not that selfless. But we can't let Caelon get this money. It's the only proof we have that Methades and he are working together."

She reached over and gave the big blacksmith's bicep a rough shove.

"Now go! You're wasting time we don't have!"

Silas looked at her, and for the first time Callisto didn't feel uncomfortable under his gaze. Something in his look had changed. He was no longer looking at her with the same judging stare he had before. Now his eyes were filled with surprise, as if he was truly seeing her for the first time.

"Go!" she shouted at him, giving him another shove.

He nodded and sprinted for the exit, his speed surprising for a man so large.

Callisto quickly glanced around the temple interior for a suitable hiding place for the pouch when a memory struck her. She darted into the same cloister she had been hiding in the last time she had been here, her eyes searching the ceiling desperately. She smiled when she spotted what she was looking for. Carved above each arch within the cloister were a series of small alcoves, presumably for the placement of candles when the temple had still been in use. They were hidden away from the main temple floor, being on the inner side of the cloister arches, and thus would not be visible unless someone was to physically enter the cloister and look up. It was hardly the finest hiding place, but it would do for now.

She quickly scrambled up the walls, as she had done the day before last, and stashed the pouch safely in a waiting alcove, then dropped back to the floor and dashed for the exit. She had an obvious sense of deja-vu as she sprinted out into the late afternoon light. Silas was nearby, clambering into his saddle, his horse fretting fitfully at the nervous state of its rider.

Her own mount had also been unhitched and was prancing alongside him, Silas gripping its reins to keep it from wandering as he waited for her. Precisely what she'd told him not to do. To the south she could see the horses belonging to the bandits thundering up the trail. They had clearly spotted Silas and were already only minutes away.

Cursing again, she broke into a sprint for her horse, her legs eating the distance between them in seconds. She vaulted easily into the saddle, much to the consternation of the animal that apparently did not like such rough treatment. Reaching over, she ripped the reigns from Silas, shooting him an angry glance as she did so.

"I told you I wasn't just going to leave you here," he said simply. Callisto just ignored him.

"Come on," she said, turning her horse on the spot and then digging in her heels.

Silas did the same and soon the two of them were galloping across the open plain, Callisto's long blonde hair streaming behind her as the wind rushed past. She lashed her steed harder, desperately willing it to move faster. The trees and the safety they offered seemed so far away but maybe, just maybe they could make it.

Something whistled past her ear in a blur of brown. She didn't need to look to know that it had been an arrow. Caelon had mounted archers. She could almost feel the odds tilting wildly against them. Still it was too late to change the plan now. They were nearly at the treeline. Just another few moments and...

Her horse suddenly let out a pained cry, skidding wildly, and kicking up clumps of dirt and grass as it reared up on its haunches, then began to topple sideways. Callisto cried out in surprise and jumped clear, hitting the ground and rolling out from under the horse before it too came crashing down. It took her less than a moment to recover and she hurriedly sprang back to her feet, yanking the stiletto dagger free from her boot as she did so.

An arrow was sticking painfully from her horse's rear haunch. The animal was already struggling back to its feet, but there was no way she could remount the thing. She glanced back over her shoulder and felt her heart sinking. The bandits were gaining and fast, their horses' hooves pounding heavily over the open ground between them.

Silas had already ridden past her. He was now a good distance beyond and almost at the trees but he had drawn his horse up and was staring back at her, a look of worry on his face.

Callisto shook her head desperately at him. She already knew what he was thinking.

"Don't go playing the hero on me," she muttered from between gritted teeth, then waved him on.

"Don't stop!" she shouted. "Keep going! I'm not worth dying for!"

She didn't know whether he had heard her or not, but it made no difference either way. He had clearly already made his decision. He turned his horse and booted it to a gallop, coming back for her.

"No!" She shouted running toward him and waving desperately for him to make for the trees.

"Please!" she cried desperately. "Leave me! Just ride!"

The arrow took him hard through the chest.

Callisto cried out in anguish as she watched, completely powerless and unable to do anything. Silas slumped in the saddle of his horse, then like a puppet with its strings cut, he slid from the galloping animal's back to crash heavily against the ground.

"I told you!" she cried as she sprinted up to him "I told you to run!"

She dropped to her knees alongside him, hurriedly lifting his arm and swinging it over her shoulder, but it was already too late. Silas was a dead weight in her arms as she tried to lift him, his head lolling dreadfully, his chest already slick with blood.

Callisto could feel that old fire burning hotter in her gut. It flared bright then raced through her like a purging forest fire, burning up all other feelings in its path. Her pulse quickened and the blood pounded in her head, until all she could see was the image of that damnable arrow as it hit home again, and again, and again.

She let Silas' lifeless body drop back to the floor, wrenched the hammer he had been carrying from his belt and glanced back over her shoulder. The bandits were almost on her but their line was spread out. Four were very close, clearly riding the fastest horses. The others were only a half minute or so behind. More than enough time to exact some much needed vengeance.

As if guided by another hand, she flipped the dagger once as a test then pivoted on her heel, hurling it like an oversize dart. It streaked through the air, a flash of purest quicksilver and one of the mounted bandits let out a winded gasp as it took him in the heart. Like Silas, he was dead before he even hit the ground.

Callisto bounced on the balls of her feet, the adrenaline coursing through her as she readied herself. She lifted the hammer over her head.

"Come on!" she shouted, then with an ear splitting screech of purest hatred, she hurled herself at the oncoming riders.

The first rider's sword came in high, clearly aiming for a clean strike at her neck. It was easy to avoid. She ducked, spinning as she did so to build momentum with the hammer. The sword streaked harmlessly over her head and she brought the hammer around and into the back of the horse's knee as it thundered by within a hairsbreadth of her. There was a wet cracking sound and the animal let out a frantic cry of pain as it went down, crushing its rider's left leg beneath it as it went. The man bellowed in agony as the other two riders charged on past Callisto, spinning their mounts and hefting their swords as they prepared for another pass.

With a cold calm that belied the raging inferno in her belly, she strode over to the downed bandit. He struggled futilely from where he was trapped beneath his horse. Callisto never said a word. She simply lifted the hammer and brought it crashing down, stilling the man's efforts in a single sickening instant.

She turned back to face the others and flashed them a coy smile, the bloodied hammer dangling between her fingers.

"Next?" she inquired innocently.

The two riders shifted uneasily in their saddles but neither seemed overly eager to charge her again.

"How about you try us instead?" came a voice from behind her that she did not recognise.

She turned, raising an eyebrow at the sight of the further sixteen mounted bandits now at her rear.

A number of them had bows at the ready, arrows nocked and ready to fire. Again the sense of deja-vu as her mind flashed back to two days before. The question was, which of them had fired the shot that killed Silas?

There were three of the bandits who stood out the most to her, the ones that carried themselves with the largest amount of authority. One had a shaved head, bad teeth and was missing a hand. The next was a tall rangy man with muscles like banded iron and a wicked scar that ran from the corner of his mouth to beneath his ear. The third man sat his horse a little apart from the other two. He was a big burly figure with a thick beard and seemed uncomfortable around the other two.

"Bows and arrows, bows and arrows," Callisto sighed and shook her head, doing her best to put them off guard. "Whatever is a girl to do?"

The man with scar on his face looked her up and down. Unlike his two compatriots he was holding a bow.

"Die if I have anything to do with it," he said, reaching for the quiver that hung from his horse's saddle.

Callisto smiled at him darkly. He had taken the initiative in dealing with her, a clear show of strength in front of the others. That must mean he was...

"Caelon I presume," she said, baring more teeth.

The man paused, an arrow halfway out of the quiver, and fixed her with an even stare.

"And if my little birdie tells me right, you must be Callisto," he said.

She tried not to let her surprise show. She supposed it was not too difficult to guess who she was. She was, after all, fairly distinctive and in the past she had hardly been inconspicuous. Still if Caelon had guessed who she was, it meant he already knew of her and her reputation. It was time to put that to use.

"My, my," she said. "You do keep well informed, and you've discovered my big dark secret. Whatever am I to do?"

She gave him a wide eyed pleading stare that slowly morphed to become a malevolent grin.

"Maybe I'll just find your little birdie, spit it, and roast it over an open fire. Shouldn't be too hard. He goes by the name Methades I believe. I wouldn't call him a birdie though. More of a stuck up, strutting peacock."

It was Caelon's turn to look surprised now. As they spoke, a large number of the bandits had begun to dismount and were now starting to surround her. A few of them began to draw their swords threateningly.

"Careful with those things boys," she said, twitching the hammer between her fingers for added effect. "Things could get very messy."

"What do you know about Methades?" Caelon snapped, leaning forward in his saddle.

"Enough to know how much money he pays you to skulk around here like a house trained dog," Callisto sneered back at him. "Two hundred dinars am I right?"

The man with one hand stiffened in his saddle at that.

"That wouldn't be the monthly take you mentioned earlier would it?" he said, turning his gaze to Caelon as he did so.

The bandit leader suddenly looked very worried. Callisto's grin split wider. It was clear she had hit on something else with that little remark. Some other subtext she had not been aiming for. Caelon obviously was not the only force to be reckoned with in this gang.

"Oops," she said in the same tone of mock innocence that had so infuriated Xena and Gabrielle all those times. "Did I say something I shouldn't have?"

Caelon let out a furious snarl and ripped an arrow from his quiver, nocking it in a flash and pulling the bow string taught.

"What do you know about my money!?" he demanded angrily, pointing the bow and arrow at her threateningly. Callisto didn't even flinch. She had faced down angry mobs, loutish prison guards, warrior princesses, demigods and even the god of war himself. She had a feeling she could handle these rag tag bandits.

"_Your_ money!" the one handed man hissed in surprise, but Caelon ignored him.

"Enough to know that you pick it up from an incense burner in the temple back that way," Callisto said, answering Caelon's original question and gambling that her earlier assumption had been right.

"I also know that you'll never see a dinar of it," she added, a dash of smugness tainting her grin.

The look of dismay in Caelon's eyes was a small victory. She had been right all along. She tilted her head to one side and twisted the ends of her hair between her fingers in a girlish manner.

"Does that about sum it all up for you?" she said.

Caelon gritted his teeth until she was certain she could hear them grinding against each other.

"Tell me what you've done with my money, or I'll put this arrow through your chest the same way I did your friend over there," He snapped.

Callisto's smile disappeared in an instant.

"So it was _you_," she said, her tone no longer cute or child like, but instead all quiet and seething rage.

"Your money's in Tartarus," she hissed. "I'll send you to get it soon."

Caelon gave an angry cry and was about to let the arrow fly when the one handed man interjected.

"Caelon," he said with a sneer. "Kill her 'n me 'n my boys walk. We don't work for free and without her, you got no way to pay us."

"You'll get paid when we finish the village," Caelon shot back.

"Not enough," the one handed man said. "a quarter ain't worth the trouble. I want the up front you promised me and if this skinny psycho girl knows where it is then I say we get her to tell us."

Caelon glared at the other man for a while, then let out a long breath to visibly calm himself. As he did so, his arm relaxed and he lowered the bow to point at the ground.

"Bring her," he nodded to the men surrounding Callisto.

Four of them jumped her at once, driving her to the ground before she could get the hammer up to strike back. She thrashed and spat violently at them as they tried to hold her still. A heavy weight pressed down on her as she felt one of the men thrust his knee into the small of her back, holding her down as the others tried in vain to grasp at her arms and legs. She managed to scissor the legs out from under one of them and sank her teeth into another when his hand came too close to her mouth. She pulled her mouth free and spat a great wad of her attacker's blood onto the grass.

"Crazy little minx ain't she." She heard the one handed man say. "Just hit her in the head with a rock or something. She doesn't need to be in top shape. Just well enough to answer questions."

He sounded for all the world like he was describing the best way to get a pig to the abattoir.

The last thing Callisto managed to focus on was Silas' body, lying still in the grass some distance away. He was on his back, his face turned up to the open sky, his eyes glassy and unseeing.

"I'm sorry," she managed to whisper, before the pommel of a sword came crashing down on the back of her head and reduced everything to darkness.

* * *

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: **Apologies to all reading this story for the late update. I originally had envisaged chapters 8 and 9 as one chapter, but I had a bit of struggle deciding in what order to present it and then what I had originally planned to be a fairly quick reveal of the truth of what's been going on turned into something a bit more substantial. In the end the chapter started to run so long I made the decision as I was finishing it up to cut it in two and edit it a little so that it would flow better as two separate chapters.

The end of chapter 9 was a lot of fun to write. Callisto's been fairly tamped down for the last couple of chapters, being a bit introspective, and trying to figure just where she's been dumped and what it is she's supposed to be doing, so it was fun to get her into a bit more of a 'blood and thunder' mode for the end of the chapter, even if only for a little while. There's a fair bit more of it coming though so I'm looking forward to getting stuck in to the rest of the story.

Hope those of you reading are continuing to enjoy and I will hopefully be back soon with another update.


	11. Chapter Ten: Left Behind

**Chapter Ten: Left Behind**

Dahlia was beginning to worry. It had been hours now since her father and Eve had ridden out of town, and she had spent the last two of those hours sitting on a bench outside the inn and waiting for their return. At first she had been certain she would see them riding back into town within minutes of her sitting down then, as time had passed and the sun had begun to sink lower and lower toward the horizon, her doubts had begun to set in. Eventually the sun had dipped below village rooftops and the light of dusk had quickly faded to the black of night. The villages many brazier torches had been lit and around the village green there now burned dim circles of orange light, beacons shining in the dark that she hoped would guide her father home.

She shivered against the encroaching chill as her doubts began to turn to dread. Where were they!? Her father had assured her that it was a safe trip and that they would be back before the day was out. She had protested of course, telling him that he was not a young man anymore and that he should leave it until the next day so that Atrix and some of the mercenaries could travel with them. Her father, being his usual pig headed self, had refused. Instead he had given some cryptic response about how it was important that he go today, and that the trip might even give them a way to be rid of the bandit threat for good. He had not sounded particularly convinced, or even convincing for that matter, but then he had always been difficult to persuade to anything. He was a stubborn man and all throughout her childhood he had tried to instill his convictions in her. She dimly remembered evenings sat in his forge, basking in the warmth of it, while he worked the bellows and hammers and told her all those stories of heroes, legends and the true meanings behind them all.

She rubbed her hands as the cold of the night air began to settle on her, and found herself watching the hanging corpses of the bandits. They still had not been taken away, a stark warning to the others still lurking beyond the village gates. The light of the torches around the green barely touched them, instead painting them in ghastly silhouettes that only succeeded in unnerving Dahlia even further.

She found her mind wandering back to her conversation with Eve earlier that day. Had these men really deserved worse than they had already received? Eve's vehemence at their treatment, and her drive to cause the men even more suffering had taken Dahlia aback. Over the day that Eve had lain unconscious in the inn's upstairs rooms, Dahlia had built up an image in her mind about the woman that had saved her. It was an image that had not survived more than an hour of actually getting to speak with her. She had imagined a bold, heroic figure willing to fight for justice and to right wrongs wherever she saw them, a woman who would be their saviour like some great hero out of the stories her father used to tell her.

Instead she had got someone very different and far more real than she had been expecting; a person who seemed strangely aloof, and surprisingly prone to black moods. Her talk of making others suffer as a means to keep yourself safe had chilled Dahlia's heart more than she had revealed at the time. What could have happened to her to lead her to such dreadful thoughts? Was she really capable of inflicting pain, purely for the sake of hurting others? Dahlia tried to imagine under what circumstances she might feel the need to do the same, but nothing came to her. Suddenly thoughts of her father, Atrix and her unborn child came to her. If anything were to happen to them... well, maybe she could imagine such circumstances after all.

As if sensing her despairing mood and trying to comfort her, she felt her baby stir inside her. She patted her stomach affectionately.

"You're right, you're right," she said, as usual feeling a little silly talking to her own belly, but at the same time feeling it strangely necessary. "I shouldn't worry so much. I'm sure your grandpa's doing just fine."

There came a low cough from behind her and she twisted as best she could on the bench to see Atrix standing behind her. He was carrying one of the inn's serving trays with a steaming bowl of soup on top of it. Over the crook of his arm was looped a thick woolen shawl. He and the other mercenaries had arrived back in town just over an hour ago, right before the sun had set. Commander Methades and the others were already in the inn, indulging in their usual evening rituals of drinking and feasting.

"You should come inside," he said, moving to sit beside her on the bench as he did so.

He handed her the tray, which she accepted thankfully and then wrapped the shawl around her shoulders.

"Cold isn't good for the baby, and Davus says you haven't eaten since breakfast this morning."

Dahlia rolled her eyes. Davus was the inn keeper, and a bigger mother hen than she had ever known.

"He fusses like an old maid," she replied. "I'm fine, and so's our child."

She took Atrix' hand and pressed it to her stomach. The baby gave an obliging kick in response and Atrix flashed her one of his rare smiles.

"He's strong," he said.

"Like _her_ mother?" she replied teasingly. She knew Atrix wanted a boy.

"Actually I was thinking of your father," he replied, not really noticing her mocking tone.

Dahlia fell silent at that. For a brief moment she had managed to put her worries aside. Now she had just picked them back up again. Atrix seemed to sense her mood.

"I'm sure he's fine," he said. "He's got Eve with him, and I have a feeling she can take care of herself."

"That's what I'm worried about."

Atrix frowned.

"What are you getting at?"

Dahlia shrugged uneasily.

"Eve and I were talking, and she said something that... well..." she couldn't think of how to continue.

She turned to Atrix and looked him in the eye.

"Do you trust her Atrix?" she asked.

"Who? Eve?" he gave a shrug. "She saved our lives. I suppose that counts for some measure of respect at least. Why do you ask?"

"It's just... well... she's just not what I expected," Dahlia said haltingly.

"You thought she was going to be some shining golden hero?" Atrix asked, cocking an eyebrow at her.

Dahlia gave a frustrated sigh. Atrix was often so taciturn it was hard to get a read on how he felt about some subjects, or even what he was thinking from moment to moment. The same was not true in reverse though, and he always seemed to have a handle on what Dahlia was feeling. It was one of the reasons she loved him so much, but by Tartarus it could be annoying at times.

"I guess I did. I mean people don't just run into burning buildings to save complete strangers do they?"

"To be fair, the building wasn't on fire until after she ran inside," Atrix said, a wry grin splitting his face.

"You know what I mean," Dahlia replied.

Atrix nodded.

"I do, but I also know you've never really left Penthos. I've traveled a lot with Commander Methades and if I learned anything, I learned that there are all kinds of people in the world, and you can never predict how someone will react at any given time. I knew this one merc, bravest man I ever met. He would stare down a horde of Xerxes' own Immortals and never bat an eyelid. Had the most morbid fear of squirrels though."

Dahlia raised an eyebrow at him.

"Squirrels?"

Atrix gave a soft chuckle.

"With Zeus as my witness, its the gods honest truth," he said. "Guy couldn't abide them. Said they had shifty eyes."

Dahlia smiled slightly at that. He always seemed to know how to cheer her up, even if only for a moment.

"Do you honestly think they're alright?" she said, her gaze drifting back in the direction of the village gates, the same way she had watched them leave earlier.

"I honestly don't know," Atrix replied. "But if anyone can last out there with Caelon's men running around its Eve. You know me. I'm no amateur, and Commander Methades is the best swordsman in the unit, but she put us both on the ground in less time than it takes your heart to beat. I've never seen anyone move like that before."

"What do you mean," Dahlia said, her brow furrowing as she spoke.

"It was like..." Atrix's voice trailed off as he tried to put his thoughts into words.

"It was like something out of one of your dad's old stories," he said finally with a smile.

He'd done it again. Somehow, without even trying, he'd managed to make her feel better.

"Now come on," he said taking the tray and its bowl of untouched but now stone cold soup from her. "Let's get you inside before you catch your death of cold. If they're not back by morning, I'll head out with some of the others and go looking for them."

He leaned in close, balancing the tray on one arm and supporting her with the other as she levered herself off the bench. Moving was getting harder the bigger and heavier she became. She clutched tightly at his arm as she pulled herself upright, massaging the small of her back with a tired groan at the same time.

She looked him in the eye as he led her back inside.

"Thank you," she said.

"For what?" he replied absently.

"For always knowing what to say."

He gave her the lopsided grin she had always found to be his best feature.

"It's what you married me for isn't it?" he said.

* * *

The pain was intense; a powerful throbbing ache that emanated from the base of her skull and seemed to spread like a spider web across the entire back of her head. Her thoughts were slow and groggy, but she thought she could make out voices nearby. They were muffled and dull, as if they were coming to her from underwater.

Slowly, Callisto tried to raise a hand to her pounding head but felt resistance when she attempted it. For some reason she couldn't move her hands, or her arms for that matter which seemed to be firmly secured behind her back. An unpleasant feeling was growing in her stomach. Something was wrong, but she could not remember exactly what. Slowly sensations were beginning to return, and as they did she felt a fresh ache begin to creep between her shoulders where her arms had been twisted behind her. She had presumably been in this position for some time. Carefully she twisted her hands again, and again met the same resistance as before, although this time she could feel rough splintered wood pressing against her back and the itchy biting of rope around her wrists.

So that was it! She was bound to some kind of wooden pole and from the feel of it, she was tied tightly in a standing position. Her legs felt weak and were sagging at the knees, all her weight pulling against her arms and the bindings that secured them. Gingerly she braced with her knees and the aching between her shoulders immediately subsided a little.

The muffled voices from nearby were beginning to become clearer now. She concentrated, ignoring the pulsing protests of her battered head. The sounds were voices. Each one carried a different pitch and tone, but they all had the same rough edge to them. It was an edge she did not like the sound of.

"…don't like this," one of them was saying. The voice was deep with a thick accent that Callisto could not quite place. Maybe Thracian?

"Don't like this at all," he continued.

"Your boys always whine like this, Caelon?" spoke a second voice. This one was not as deep as the first, but there was a sadistic edge to it that made Callisto wary.

Gingerly, she cracked one eye open, wincing as the sudden light flooding in between her eyelids caused her head to throb even harder.

"If she really is Callisto, I think I'm right to be worried," the first voice shot back. "We've all heard the stories. I even heard she got her hands on some Ambrosia, made herself a god!"

Carefully so as not to attract attention and let the speakers know she was conscious, she cracked open her other eye slightly and let them glide back and forth over her surroundings as she tried to take stock of the situation.

At first she could see little beyond an mixture of undulating oranges and blacks but slowly the blurriness began to fade and resolve itself into more distinct shapes. She was in some kind of tent, and was presumably lashed to its center pole. A roaring fire pit off to one side was presumably the source of the orange light and flcikering shadows. The tent was relatively spartan, with little in the way of furniture beyond a number of animal skins to cover the bare ground and a weathered old couch that looked to Callisto like it had once been opulent but was now only a faded shadow of its former glory.

There were three men in the tent with her. One of them was sprawled across the couch, slouching and partly obscured from Callisto's view by the other two men standing in front of him. They appeared to be in the middle of a heated discussion. One was a big man with a thick beard while the other was shaven headed with only one hand. The one handed man gave a derisive snort as the big man made his comment about Callisto's former god hood.

"Riiiiight," he said, his voice heavy with condescension. "And how many gods've you met that let you hit 'em in the head with a sword then truss 'em up like game for the pluckin'."

"Just sayin' what I heard is all," said the big man defensively. "Either way, she's trouble and no way she's here alone. She'll have an army waiting out there somewhere. Me 'n my boys say we should just pack up 'n leave. Cut our losses and head for new pastures, that kind of thing."

"You say?" the one handed man said, his voice low and threatening at first but quickly rising to a pitch of fury Callisto was more than familiar with.

"YOU SAY!?" he shouted, his mouth flecked with spittle. "You hear this Caelon? Your boy Herriod here seems to think he's runnin' your gang."

At the mention of Caelon, Callisto's ears pricked up. There was something about that name, something that made her chest tighten and her breath shorten, but she couldn't remember what.

The one handed man was leaning in dangerously toward the big man now, his hand resting on the hilt of the sword that hung at his hip.

"You don't run this gang," he hissed. "And even if you did, you don't run me 'n mine. I ain't been paid yet, but the way I see it, I'm owing and I intend to collect even if I have to take it out of her hide..."

He paused meaningfully.

"...or yours," he finished darkly.

The larger man clenched his fists to the accompanying crack of knuckles.

"You threatenin' me Sev?" he said.

He was trying to sound hard edged, but Callisto could hear the trembling at the corners of his voice, a sign of suppressed fear. The smaller man, Sev, had clearly recognised the tell tale quavering as well.

"Yeah," he sneered, taking a step toward Herriod. "Try not to soil yourself next time I do it. The smell ain't exactly pleasant."

Herriod gave a low growl of anger and Callisto could see his muscles tensing as he prepared to throw himself at the other man.

"Enough!" came a fresh third voice, but it was one that Callisto recognised. The third man had stood up from the couch, giving her her first really good look at him. He was tall with lean muscles and a heavy scar running from his mouth to beneath his ear. At the sight of him Callisto heard that familiar name in her head again.

Caelon.

Suddenly the fog of pain inside her head parted, and the memories of how she had ended up here came flooding back. In her minds eye she saw the arrow taking Silas through the chest and heard her own horror stricken cry as he slumped in his saddle, the life already draining from him before he even hit the ground. She saw these three men sitting astride horses and Caelon himself with his bow drawn, his words echoing in her mind as he admitted to killing the only man, she realised now, that she had ever truly considered decent.

She tugged viciously at the ropes that held her in a vain attempt to free herself, causing them to creak loudly against the wooden post to which she was bound. The the three bandits promptly turned their eyes on her.

"Looks like our guest ain't so sleepy no more," Caelon said, his eyes narrowing as he did so.

He and Sev crossed the tent to stand in front of her, each of them seeming to size her up as they walked. Caelon was the more cautious of the pair. As he came closer to her, he unclipped the clasp on his sword's scabbard allowing him to draw it more easily should he need to. Sev was more brazen. He moved closer to her, standing within easy reach should her arms have been free. The fire flared brightly as a previously untouched chunk of kindling suddenly caught aflame and Sev's eyes glinted coldly in the momentary brightness.

"Good to see you awake," he said cordially.

"You kept me alive?" Callisto replied, her voice dry and raspy. She must have been unconscious for a couple of hours at least.

Sev only shrugged in response.

"We thought it would be nice to bring you back here," he said. "Show you a bit of courtesy, then see if you could answer some questions for us."

Callisto glared back at him.

"The courteous thing to do would've been to let me kill your boss over there when you had the chance," she nodded toward Caelon. "Then I'd have shown you the same courtesy."

"Oh?" Caelon interjected. "And what courtesy would that have been?"

"I'd have made it quick when I killed him," she spat.

Sev's fist moved so fast that Callisto barely had time to brace for it. It caught her square in the stomach like a hammer blow. Her breath exploded from her in a loud gasp and for a moment she couldn't breathe, her mouth open and working silently as she tried in vain to suck clear crisp air back into her lungs. Finally her chest heaved and a loud hacking cough escaped her as she managed to breathe again.

"Now let's not get unfriendly," Caelon said nonchalantly as he placed a placating hand on Sev's shoulder. "We're all friends here after all, right Sev?"

The one handed bandit folded his arms, as he stood back to admire his handiwork.

"Oh yeah," he said sarcastically. "Best buddies."

Caelon nodded, turning back to Callisto as he did so. She only stared at them both defiantly. She wasn't afraid of Caelon or Sev, or even Herriod. They were filth and the only feeling they did conjure in her was nausea. People like this were just tools for destruction and chaos. It was people like them who had burned her home, taking everything she had ever loved and turning it to ash on the wind. In the past she had taken great pleasure in using her enemies former tools against them in service of her own revenge. Now she would instead have to take pleasure in simply ending them.

"There you see, all friends and smiles," Caelon said, exposing yellowing teeth with a wolfish grin. "But since we're all being so friendly I think its time we addressed a few minor points of contention here. You agree with me Sev?"

He turned to the one handed bandit, who gave a nod then stepped forward, raising a finger as if he were a great scholar about to deliver an important observation on the nature of the universe.

"Point number one," he said. "Caelon here ain't my boss. My boys are led by no one, save me." Caelon and Herriod both looked a little uncomfortable at that but neither spoke.

"Which leads us onto point number two," Sev continued. "I only lead my boys where I'm paid to, and Caelon here promised me a lot of money to lead them against that village to the south."

He pulled a long stiletto dagger calmly from his belt and Callisto regonised it immediately. It was the dagger Silas had given her, the one she had used to kill a mounted bandit. She felt that same pang in her stomach as she thought of Silas. Why had he not just listened to her? Why had he not just ridden for the trees like she had told him to?

Sev leaned in close, the tip of the dagger pressing sharply up against the exposed skin under her chin.

"And that brings us neatly to point number three," he said, his voice now dangerously low, his fetid breath hanging thick on the air.

Callisto blinked away thoughts of Silas, doing her best to remain impassive. Her eyes met his, even stare to even stare.

"You took my money," he hissed. "And I want it back. So you're going to tell me where it is or I'm going to make sure you're a long time dying." He jabbed her chin lightly with the point of the dagger, drawing a pinprick of blood as he did so.

Callisto only smiled at him, her grin wide and fearsomely white.

"And I thought we were friends," she said calmly. Sev's lip curled up in a sneer.

"Oh we are, we are," Caelon interjected. "And friends share confidences. Y'know, little secrets, like where they hide things."

"Tell you what," she said, "If you want the money, little Sev here only has to do one thing for me."

"And what would that be?" Sev snarled, clearly bristling at being called 'little'.

Callisto flicked her eyes in the direction of Caelon and Herriod.

"Do them for me, right here and now," she said, taking a wild gamble at his loyalties. "I'd prefer slow and painful, but quick and painless will have to suffice for the time being. Do that and I'll give you all the money you could want."

Both Caelon and Herriod visibly tensed, their hands closing over their sword hilts. They both clearly believed Sev might actually turn on them. At the same time, she could feel Sev suddenly stiffen as well, the dagger shifting ever so slightly as his grip tightened around it, the pressure on her chin lessening ever so slightly. For a moment there was silence as the three men stood, hands clutching weapons, while Callisto watched each of them intently.

Sev's eyes had a measuring look in them, as if he was carefully weighing the options available to him. Caelon seemed the most uneasy, obviously having the most to lose if the situation should turn sour but she could tell from the way he had shifted his feet and balanced his hand on the hilt of his sword that he was a capable fighter. Probably the most dangerous of the three should it come down to a straight up fight. Herriod was the most interesting to her though. He had taken a step back from Caelon, as if trying to distance himself from the other man, while still keeping a wary eye on Sev. How committed was he to Caelon? Was there something there she could use?

She could already see a look of determination resolving in Sev's eyes and from the nasty half grin he shot her it was obvious he was not about to betray his fellow bandits for so simple a ploy.

"Quite the piece of work we caught ourselves, eh Sev," said Caelon, stepping up behind the other man as he tried diffuse the tension in the air. His hand never left his sword however. Sev only laughed in return and stepped back from her, tucking the dagger into his belt behind his back as he did so.

Caelon's shoulders sagged ever so slightly in obvious relief, but Herriod continued to watch Sev. His distrust of the smaller man was clear in the way he moved to always keep Sev in sight.

"Not very co-operative is she," Sev said jovially.

Caelon only tilted his head slightly.

"You think you can do something about that?" he asked.

Sev turned a cruel leer on Callisto that made her skin crawl. As he studied her, he lifted his one good hand to scratch thoughtfully at his chin.

"I wouldn't say no," he said finally. "I have some wonderful toys that I can use to play with her. I just need a little time is all."

Callisto stiffened at that. She should have known a nasty little sadist like Sev would have more ways to torture people than just a sharpened dagger. She gave a mental grin. Amateur.

"Just don't take too long," Caelon said and turned to head for the tent's exit. "Remember we leave within the hour. I want you and yours ready to ride with us when we move."

Sev grunted.

"And if she still hasn't talked?" he said.

"Then you ain't gettin' the up front money," Caelon replied simply. For a moment Callisto was glad she had hidden the money in the temple. It's absence certainly seemed to be playing merry havoc with Caelon's plans.

"Then why should I ride with you?" Sev asked.

"Because you still get a cut of what we take from the village." Caelon replied. "Better a little of something than all of nothing, especially if this psycho here's about to drop an army on us."

Sev glanced at Callisto out of the corner of his eye.

"Better make sure she talks then hadn't I," he said.

"Yes you better had," Caelon replied. "You've got thirty minutes. I suggest you get to work."

With that he turned and swept out of the tent leaving the other two men standing in his wake.

Sev gave a mocking bow, his arm sweeping wide as Caelon strode out of the tent.

"Of course," he said to the other man's retreating back. "We wouldn't want to be late now would we?"

He turned and glanced at Callisto, then Herriod in turn. The levity seemed to have gone out of him as soon as Caelon left the tent. Now he stood straighter, his face still and unreadable.

"Watch her," he ordered Herriod. "I have to get my things."

The big man visibly bristled at that.

"Why should I..."

"Because I TOLD YOU TO!" Sev rounded on him, his voice starting low and escalating to vicious shout, that made the other man wilt under its fury.

With that he turned and stalked out of the tent as well, leaving Callisto alone with Herriod.

She turned her head to regard the other man. He was glaring daggers at the exit to the tent, whether for Sev, Caelon or both she wasn't entirely sure. This was it, maybe the only chance she would have before Sev came back. She had to take it.

"You look upset," she said mockingly, hoping that this was the right approach to take with the big man.

"Shut up."

"Or what?" she sneered at him. "You'll hurt me? Maybe even kill me? Something tells me a twisted little pile of dung like Sev won't take too kindly to you putting a stop to his fun."

"I said shut up," Herriod said again.

Callisto ignored him, doing her best to keep him talking instead.

"Speaking of Sev, he seems like quite the power player here doesn't he?"

Herriod shot her a dark look then crossed to behind her. She could feel his hands tugging at the ropes that bound her, making sure she was securely tied to the post and for a moment she worried that she might have misjudged his loyalties. Well, too late now. She would have to continue on regardless.

"I mean, Caelon certainly seems to need him. But then, why all the effort for Sev?" a tone of mock questioning entered her voice. "Why isn't he courting you and your boys the same way?"

"We've worked for the boss a long time," Herriod grunted. "He knows we'll get the job done. We ain't got nothin' to prove."

"Ah," Callisto replied with mock sympathy. "Taken for granted then?"

Herriod's fumbling hands paused on the ropes for a moment. Callisto felt a surge of elation. She'd touched on it, the screw she needed to twist until Herriod was wound up so tight the stress would make him snap. From the way Caelon and Sev treated him, that did not feel like it would be too difficult a feat to achieve.

"I mean, come on, how long have you been serving him?" she pushed.

"I don't serve him!" Herriod said indignantly. "We're all of us his partners."

Callisto snorted.

"Doesn't look that way to me," she replied. "Not when Sev's stomping around giving you orders, and Caelon just sits back and lets him."

Herriod had fallen silent again. Should she give him a moment to think? To process what she was saying? No. He already knew what she was getting at, she was almost certain of it. She just needed to keep on turning the screws on his self worth, keep on twisting at them until... well she didn't know what would happen exactly, but she imagined it would be quite the sight to see.

"Tell me something," she continued. "Does Caelon treat all of you like whipped dogs and just expect you to roll over for it?"

Again, Herriod said nothing. She had to keep going, had to keep talking.

"You were right you know," she said, "They should have listened to you."

There was another pause and then...

"About what?" Herriod said.

"About me," Callisto replied. "I do have an army and they're waiting up in the forest to the north. I'm just scouting ahead for them."

She twisted her head, doing her best to look back at him over her shoulder.

"You know my reputation and you know what they'll do when they come south."

Herriod let out a soft groan.

"They'll burn the village, take everything of value, enslave the women and children, and then they'll move onto Caelon." A pondering tone entered her voice as she spoke. If she could have moved her hands she would have been tapping at her chin in thought.

"I'll probably take them on the open road when they try to ride out of here," she said matter of factly. "They have to be punished after all. No one threatens me and gets to walk away whole afterward. I at least have to get a finger or two from them."

The lies flowed easily off her tongue as she spoke. She just hoped they were as convincing to Herriod as they sounded to her.

"But you don't have to be one of them," she continued. "I need men with a bit of insight in my army. Men with a bit of savvy who can see which way the wind is blowing."

"You'd let me and my boys join you?" he said.

"You're of far more value to me alive than dead," she said simply. "One fifth of everything we take if you do."

She didn't want to offer too much straight away. It would make her ploy less believable if she seemed desperate. Herriod had to believe she had an army at her back and that she had no real concerns about getting out of her present predicament.

The big man fell silent. Callisto could tell he was working the options over in his mind, calculating all the risks and rewards. She glanced toward the tent flaps that led to the bandit camp outside, trying hard not to let the growing tension she was feeling show on her face. Time was running out. Any minute now Sev would be back and this small window of opportunity she had been granted would close. Still, she could not push Herriod. If she did, the control she was trying to demonstrate would be revealed for what it was, an illusion as intangible as smoke on the wind.

Finally Herriod spoke again.

"A third," was all he said.

"A quarter," Callisto fired back at him.

For a moment he said nothing, then came the distinctive sound of a dagger blade rasping against leather as he pulled it from its sheath.

"Hold still," he said. "Wouldn't want _you_ losing a finger or two now would we."

The ropes holding her wrists suddenly bit tighter under tension from the dagger, then an instant later fell loose as Herriod sliced cleanly through them. Callisto had to try hard to keep from letting out a sigh of relief as her arms fell to her sides, the gnawing ache between her shoulders already beginning to subside.

Herriod was beginning to stoop to cut her ankles loose when the tent flap opened and Sev came strutting in like a prize rooster, a small oak box tucked under his arm. His 'toys' Callisto presumed. The moment he saw her with her hands free, and Herriod crouched just behind her, he froze. Herriod caught sight of him almost immediately and cursed, quickly straightening as he did so.

"Well, well, well," Sev chuckled, a dark smile staining his lips. "Caelon's little meat head finally shows an ounce of cunning. What took you so long Herriod? Finally get tired of your boss pissing in your ale in front of all your little friends?"

Herriod's top lip curled upward in an angry snarl and he pulled a heavy looking sword with a thick blade from his back, bringing it up one handed in a simple guard as he advanced past Callisto toward Sev. The one handed man tossed the oak box to one side, its contents scattering on the floor and glittering wickedly as the firelight shone off them. Slowly and deliberately he drew his own sword, a long thin bladed thing with only one edge sharpened judging from the way it caught the fire light.

"You not goin' to call for help?" Herriod said as the two men advanced on one another.

"And risk not being able to take your head for myself? Now where would be the fun in that?" Sev replied, still smiling.

For brief moment, silence filled the tent as Callisto watched the two men circle each other. Herriod clearly had the advantage of strength and weight, but Sev carried himself better. He did not grip his sword as tightly as Herriod and his balance was lighter. Callisto knew that in such close quarters the fight would be vicious and quick. She ducked hurriedly, her fingers working deftly at the knotted ropes around her ankles. In front of her the two men flung themselves at one another, their swords meeting with a resounding crash. Whether they called for help or not, the sound of their fight would bring others in no time.

The ropes had been knotted multiple times. The first knot came undone relatively quickly but Callisto cursed bitterly when her grip slipped off the second one. She seized at it again, her dexterous fingers searching and tugging as she tried to work it loose. With a hiss of pain as the friction of the ropes burned at her rapidly moving fingers, she managed to undo the second knot and move onto the third.

The sounds of Sev and Herriod's fight were growing louder as the two men grew more desperate. She glanced up at them and was dismayed when, just as she did so, Sev delivered a hard hitting back handed strike with the flat of his sword that knocked Herriod's own weapon from his grip. The sword sailed into the far corner of the tent as Herriod, now unarmed save the dagger he had used to free Callisto's hands, began to back away warily. She could see the look of desperation in the big man's eyes, and the dawning realisation that he probably only had seconds to live. It was the same look she had seen dozens upon dozens of times before when an opponent realised they were outclassed.

With a panicked cry, he flung his huge frame at Sev. The smaller man hadn't been expecting it and the two of them hit the ground hard, Herriod grabbing at his opponent's sword arm and smashing it repeatedly down until Sev's one remaining hand released its grip on the sword hilt. Sev in turn brought his head forward in a bone crunching headbutt and Herriod howled as his nose broke and a torrent of blood streamed from it and down into his beard.

The big man collapsed back, the pain clearly distracting him. Sev wasted no time, grabbing for the dagger strapped to Herriod's thigh in the other man's moment of weakness.

Callisto breathed easier as the third and final knot came loose between her fingers, and she hurriedly began to untangle her feet from the ropes and post she had been bound to.

In front of her the two men were wrestling for Herriod's dagger. Despite his greater strength Herriod was losing, the pain from his mangled nose clearly giving Sev the advantage. Silently Callisto moved across the room toward them, her eyes on the stiletto dagger still tucked into the back of Sev's belt where he had placed it earlier.

The fight lasted only a moment longer, as Sev finally wrestled control of Herriod's own dagger from him and twisted the blade downward before plunging it through the side of the other man's throat. The big man barely managed a gasp, the light in his eyes fading quickly as his final breath gurgled wetly on his lips. Then his head lolled weakly to one side and the fight was done. Sev clambered to his feet, his face set in a hideous smile as he looked down at Herriod's body.

"Barely any fun at all," he muttered to himself, starting to turn his attention toward the post at the center of the tent. His eyes widened in alarm as he caught sight of the empty ropes lying discarded on the ground.

"Where in the..." he began, as Callisto seized her chance.

The next few moments seemed to happen in slow motion for her.

Her hand shot out, whipping the stiletto dagger from his belt. Sev's eyes widened in stunned surprise as, in the same instant, Callisto rammed the dagger up under his chin, burying the blade right up to the hilt.

"Still want to play with me?" she hissed at him as she yanked the dagger free, the hot, cloying, copper scent of his blood on her hands.

Sev could only mouth some inarticulate reply as he toppled backward to the ground, his one good hand clutching desperately at the open wound. Callisto stood and watched him die, a strange feeling of nausea settling heavy in her gut. She had taken no pleasure in his death and that was surprising to her. She lifted the stiletto dagger in her hand, seeing the blood that stained both the blade and her fingers for the first time. She frowned. Wasn't this supposed to be the right thing to do? The championly thing to do? To kill an evil man, so that he couldn't harm others? Was that even why she had done it? Nothing made sense anymore. Everything that had once come so naturally to her now felt strange and wrong. It all just felt so hollow and empty.

She sniffed as she knelt alongside the body of Herriod, wiping the blade of the stiletto dagger unceremoniously on his shirt before straightening and tucking it into the top of the leather bracer she wore on her forearm. Outside she could already hear shouts of alarm, clearly alerted by the sounds of Herriod and Sev's brief but violent battle. She did not have much time.

Quickly she unbuckled Herriod's sword scabbard and belt, then straightened and buckled the belt over one shoulder so that the scabbard hung at her back. Crossing to the far side where Herriod's sword had fallen, she snatched it up and surveyed the tent. Other than the two bodies, there was little of use. She could not leave via the exit. She darted to the opposite side of the tent, whipping the heavy sword in a two handed vertical cut that parted the thick canvas easily. Without pausing, she passed through the gash she had opened and out into the cool air of night.

Around her all was darkness and a strong wind was blowing. The tent had clearly been set up at the edge of a clearing. Only a few feet away the forest filled her vision, trees casting long shadows that fluttered and skittered as the branches swayed too and fro under a silvery sheen of moonlight.

She crossed quickly into the trees for cover as she heard bandits arriving in the tent behind her, cries of alarm going up as they discovered the bodies of their former comrades. She wasted no time listening to them. It would not take them long to discover the slit in the back of the tent and to figure out where she had gone. She needed to get moving, but just blundering off into the forest in the dark with no clue as to which way she was going or where she was trying to get to was a sure fire recipe for disaster. Instead she hugged the tree line, circling the fringes of the camp as she tried to work out what to do next.

Caelon's bandits were a ragtag bunch. That much was obvious. The whole camp was a collection of filthy looking, badly maintained tents and fire pits. At a brief head count, Callisto could make out some sixty or so men. Nearby, a third of that number in horses were tethered to a long hitching post along with some hay bails placed close to them for feed. A plan began to form in the back of her mind as she took it all in.

Currently the camp was in uproar as men hurried this way and that, desperately in search of her. They were disorganised but she could already see Caelon striding through the middle of the chaos, giving orders and gradually bringing his men under control. It would not be long before they gave up searching the camp and began to expand their hunt into the surrounding forest. Searching for her would be difficult in the dark, but Callisto still didn't want to be around when it happened. There were too many risks, too many chances that something could go wrong, not to mention her blonde hair making stealth at night a difficult proposition for her. No, leaving on foot was not an option. That only left the horses.

Quickly and quietly she crossed to where the horses were tethered, a nearby torch stuck upright in the soft ground soil to allow the bandits to see what they were doing around the animals. The majority of the horses had already been saddled in preparation for the bandits' upcoming attack on Penthos. That made things considerably easier. She picked out one of the horses that had been saddled, a dark mare with a quick step that pranced nervously as she approached.

"Easy girl, easy," she whispered as she drew closer to the animal, holding out a placating hand as she did so. "I'm not going to hurt you."

The horse stomped is feet, and snorted loudly. Callisto froze, her eyes darting to the nearby camp. So far she had not been noticed. She reached out, holding her breath as she did so and managed to deftly snag the horse's reins. The animal reared and whinnied softly. Still no one looked their way.

"Come on girl," she whispered again. "Time to cause ourselves a little distraction."

Holding the horse's reins tightly, she crossed to the blazing torch and hefted it. As she did so a cry went up from the camp. She had been spotted. She span to see a number of bandits starting toward her, Caelon standing at their back and gesturing wildly in her direction.

She flashed the bandit leader a broad grin and vaulted into her horse's saddle, brandishing the torch high over her head as she did so. She whirled it in her grip as if it were a sword, the flame roaring louder as she did so, then span her mount and hurled it into the nearby hay bails.

The fire caught immediately, flaring brightly in the darkness as the wind pulled it from one hay bail to the next. Already, flickering embers were beginning to drift in the air and the horses all around her were beginning to stomp and whinny in panic. Some were already pulling hard at the hitching post, their eyes rolling white and nostrils flaring. Within another moment or two all the horses had begun to do the same as the fire blazed hotter and harder. The hitching post began to groan under the strain. One horse, a huge stallion with heavily muscled flanks heaved desperately at its tethers. There was a loud splintering crack and the post split as if someone had taken an axe to it. Free from its tether, the stallion turned and bolted, its hooves pounding as it hurtled off through the camp and into the safety of the forest.

Callisto clutched grimly to her reins, doing her best to control her own horse as the other animals began strain harder and harder. The hitching post, already weakened, began to crack and splinter all along its length as each horse managed to get free and flee the roaring flames that licked hungrily at the night sky.

Callisto gave a satisfied nod at her efforts, then turned her steed and caught sight of Caelon still watching her with hatred in his eyes as his men began to chase after the fleeing horses.

She smiled wickedly and threw him a jaunty wave.

"Still think we're friends?" she shouted to him, her smile broadening as she booted her horse to the gallop and thundered out of the camp, leaving only a trail of smoke and burning embers in her wake.


	12. Chapter Eleven: Lie to Me

**Chapter Eleven: Lie to Me**

Caelon was standing over the bodies of Herriod and Sev.

The two men lay only a couple of feet apart, both on their backs, death glazed eyes staring unseeingly up at the top of the tent. Herriod's own dagger was sticking out from his neck, his fingers brushing against it, presumably from when he had tried to pull it out. The fact that he hadn't even had time to do that was mute testament to how quickly death had taken him. Sev's body was easily the more horrific of the two to look upon. The one handed bandit's neck and chest had been stained a grim crimson by the blood that had flowed so freely from the open wound under his chin and was now little more than a sticky, clotted mess. Both of their faces were etched with expressions of desperation, their eyes widened in shock but now just empty, hollow, soulless.

Caelon's lip curled up in a furious sneer.

Callisto had done this. He knew that much for a fact and for the first time since he had come to the basin to prey on the village, he felt something akin to unease settle over him. She had been secured to the tent post with more bindings than he would have placed on any one else, and yet somehow she had still managed to take out two of the best fighters he had and then escape without so much as a scratch. To add insult to injury, on the way out of the village she had scattered the band's horses, and he had had to delay their attack on Penthos while his men tracked down and recovered their steeds.

What was she even doing here? Herriod had seemed to think she had an army waiting to sweep in and level Penthos, but why? Marauding warlords like Callisto did not come this far south without reason. They liked to ply their bloody business in more civilised and valuable territories where the benefits to conquering or pillaging a region could support their massive forces. The area around Penthos was of almost no strategic value, and the money to be made here was little enough not to attract the eye of larger bandit groups. It was part of the reason Caelon had been drawn into this whole plan in the first place. Of course, if half the stories he had heard about her were true, Callisto did not need a logical reason to be here. He shuddered at the thought of that.

A dark frown crept across his forehead as thoughts and plans raced inside his mind. Events were quickly spiraling out of control and he was doing all he could to keep up with them. Sev's men had been a problem at first, but he had managed to placate them quickly enough with the promise of a greater cut of the takings when the village was finally leveled. How much longer could he realistically wait before launching his attack though? The best solution now was to move quickly and finish their business as soon as possible, but what if Herriod had been right? Could they really take the risk of tarrying even the few hours they would need to prepare themselves more fully?

He cursed quietly to himself, unable to decide on the best course of action. Behind him, the sound of the tent flap being pushed aside caused him to start suddenly. He turned to regard the newcomer. It was one of his more trusted remaining lieutenants, a muscular man by the name of Tethis. He was workmanlike in ability and had all the cunning of a sack of rocks, but he was as loyal as a newborn pup and that quality was as valuable as a strong sword arm to Caelon right now.

"What's the word?" he asked stiffly, "And it better be good."

Tethis swallowed nervously as he eyed the dead bodies.

"We managed to get most of the horses back," he said, "four of 'em look to be gone for good though. Fire must've really spooked 'em."

Caelon gave the merest hint of a nod.

"It'll have to do," he said with an inward sigh of relief. He hadn't liked the idea of taking on Methades' mercenaries unmounted. With almost all of their horses returned they would equal Methades' men on horseback alone, not even including the rest the men on foot.

He started heading for the exit to the tent, Tethis falling in alongside him as he went.

"Is everything else prepared?" he asked as they stepped outside. The acrid smell of smoke hung thick in the air, as did a grey haze that lent an ethereal quality to the numerous figures moving back and forth as the gang readied itself to move out.

"Everything is packed and stowed save the tents," Tethis replied.

Caelon looked up at the sky overhead. It was still dark, but the light of dawn was already growing over the tree tops. Soon the first rays of sun would sear the sky, and the planned night time raid would become a daylight battle. They had no more time to waste. If they moved quickly they would still be able to catch Penthos and its mercenary guard bleary eyed and unawares in the early hours of the morning.

"Leave the tents," he ordered. "We can always get more."

He strode purposefully over to the spot where the horses had been gathered. They were still saddled as per his orders, and he was surprised to see that his gigantic warhorse was among them. Surprised and a little disappointed. He had been hoping the beast was one of the animals to get away. At least then he would have had a reason for riding a tamer steed. With a grunt, he heaved himself up into the thick set stallion's saddle and tugged on the reins. The animal gave an irritated snort but obeyed well enough as he trotted over to the center of the camp. Standing in the stirrups to add to his already considerable height, Caelon raised his voice.

"Now hear this boys!" he yelled for attention.

The various gang members slowly began to drop what they were doing as they turned to face him. They all looked eager, ready and angry. The news of Sev and Herriod's deaths had had one positive effect. It had galvanised the men, lending them a sense of purpose and good old fashioned blood lust that the long months of relative quiet had robbed them of. They were ready for a fight and he was about to give them one. Only a few of Herriod's die hard followers held out, muttering quietly among themselves in a small group away from the rest. Caelon chose to ignore them.

"We've been playin' the demon's to Penthos' hired mercs for long enough!" he shouted loudly, "Creepin' in the forest, raidin' for paltry spoils now 'n then, and only a little pay off to keep us at bay. Well it all ends now! Now's the time we ride 'n burn, now's the time we take everythin' owin' to us! Now's the time we grind the name of Penthos under our boot heel where it belongs!"

A ragged cheer came up at that, and Caelon smiled inwardly to himself. Sometimes they were so easy.

"So, those of you ridin' mount up, and those of you walkin' keep up. By the end of today we'll be movin' on, and I for one want to be loaded down with the spoils of victory when we do!"

A second, louder cheer went up, and he turned his horse on the spot, easing it to a trot as others began to run for their own steeds while the rest shouldered their gear and began to march.

Caelon felt himself relaxing in the saddle as he rode for the tree line at the edge of the clearing, the rest of the gang gradually falling in behind him. The wave of unease he had felt at the tent was beginning to fade. He was looking forward to putting Penthos to the torch. In his mind's eye he could already see that damnable stockade broken and shattered while the village green blazed violently in competition with the bright morning sun. It would be a cathartic end to a year of ill judged torpor on his part.

Behind him some of the boys began to chant in bawdy tones, a lusty song about inn keeper's daughters, fisherman's wives and the great sport they made.

Caelon smiled openly, his scar twitching the corner of his mouth, turning the smile to a malicious leer as he rode. Callisto or no Callisto, Penthos would die this day, and he would be the one to deliver the finishing blow.

* * *

Callisto's horse's hooves pounded against the hard packed mud trail and each drove a jackhammer jolt through her legs and into her thighs as she crouched low over the saddle, her hands wrapped grimly around the reins. To either side of her the forest whipped past in a blur of oaken wood, leathery leaves and long shadows as the first rays of sunlight crested the horizon. Their warmth against her skin was welcome relief from the blowing wind and biting chill of the previous night, but she did not pause to basque in them. Instead she tightened her grip on the reins, and dug in her heels, spurring the animal to an even faster gallop. She had no time. Caelon was likely already recovering from her little pyromaniac stunt and his band would be on the move before too long. She had to get back to Penthos! She had to warn Atrix, Dahlia and the other villagers what was coming!

She frowned to herself as the horse bounded along the trail. Why did she care so much? She barely knew these people. Atrix, Dahlia, the villagers, and even Silas, if she was honest with herself, should mean nothing to her. But for some reason they did. Was it because they had shown her kindness? A hint of human compassion when all she had previously known was fear and revilement? That was not it, she was almost certain.

The more she thought about it as her horse sped between the trees, the more she realised it all came down to Silas. She had had only had a few conversations with the man, had known him less than a day in fact, but that had not stopped his death having an effect on her. She had lived with the pain and loss of her family for so long, she had thought herself inured to it, even perhaps immune to it, but the sight of that arrow taking the aging blacksmith in the chest had cut her deeper than she cared to admit. Even now when she replayed the moment in her mind, she could feel her heart skip a beat at the merest thought of it, and that strange pang she had felt so often recently grew unbidden in her stomach.

She bit her lip, and swallowed hard. He had died because he had, to some small extent, placed his trust in her. Now, like all the rest, he was gone and she was left behind empty, alone and broken. Why had he tried to save her? Why had he just not ridden on like she had told him to? The same questions she had asked herself at the tent came flooding back to her now and as then, she had no real answers to give herself other than the stark realisation that Silas' death had been pointless. He had died trying to save her despite the fact she was utterly unworthy of being saved.

She spurred her horse harder, the animals hooves now barely even touching the ground as all around them the shadows shortened while the sun climbed higher into the morning sky. She would make sure that his death had not been for nothing as her parents had been. She would warn Penthos about the doom that awaited it, and exact a debt of pain from those who would do it harm. Maybe then, Silas could rest easy in Elysium, knowing that his death had lead to those he loved being spared the suffering stretching across the horizon like the rays of the morning sun.

The horse pounded around a bend and suddenly the trees fell away around her as they rocketed out of the forest and over the open grass that surrounded Penthos' stockade. Her mount barely even slowed as she angled it for the village gate, passing through it a moment later in a spray of hoof churned earth and horse sweat. She noticed a couple of the villagers watching her ride past, their mouths hanging open as she raced for village green.

As she rounded the corner onto the green she caught sight of them immediately, a number of the mercenaries already decked out in their bronze armoured chest plates, saddling horses and sharpening weapons as they prepared to ride out. Atrix was among them, his bow hanging limply in his grasp, a quiver of arrows strapped to his back and a sword fastened at his waist.

At the sound of Callisto's arrival all eyes turned to her, a number of them widening in astonishment as she reined her horse up tightly nearby and slipped from the saddle before the animal had even come to a complete stop.

Atrix stood dumbfounded for a moment as he regarded her.

"Eve!" he managed finally, "Where in Tartarus have you been!? We were just about to ride out to the Headstone looking for you."

His eyes darted searchingly from side to side as he spoke.

"Where's Silas?" he added. "Dahlia's been worried sick about him."

Callisto felt that pang again, but shook her head at him. She could not be distracted. Not now.

"I don't have time for this Atrix," she said, reaching back over her shoulder and unlimbering the sword she had taken from Caelon's camp. She still did not know how many of these men were trustworthy, if indeed any of them were.

"Where's Methades?" she asked her eyes alight with dark purpose,

Atrix stared at the sword wide eyed, then lifted his gaze to meet hers. There was a look of wariness behind his even stare. It was the same look he had worn when she first met him at the Headstone only a couple of days ago.

"Why don't you put the sword down Eve," he said, his voice steady and measured while his hand began to reach for the arrows in the quiver at his back. Callisto's eyes moved slowly from side to side, taking in the mercenaries surrounding her. The thin rasp of steel on leather filled the air as they began to draw their swords. Out of the corner of her eye she could see Tarthus, his sword hilt clutched in a white knuckled grip. She was sure she could see his hands shaking. A crowd of villagers was beginning to gather on the green, watching the scene unfold in astonished silence while overhead seagulls wheeled and let out loud barking cries as they took to the sky. She tightened her grip on her sword hilt, parting her feet slightly for better balance and lifting the tip of her blade until it formed a slanting line in front of her. It was a classic starting form, crossed for defence but ready to shift onto the attack at a moment's notice.

"Atrix," she said, gritting her teeth and doing her best to hold her temper. "You and your men should put your swords away. If you do, things won't have to get violent, and I won't have to make a mess of all that lovely polished armour you all wear."

Atrix continued to stare at her, his eyes measuring, a frown carved in heavy lines across his forehead.

"You first," he said, his voice flat and hard.

Callisto nodded in return.

"Together then," she suggested.

Without taking his eyes off her, he gave a slight nod to the other mercenaries that surrounded her, and Callisto could almost feel the tension ease as they straightened, their hands falling away from their sword hilts. She did the same, letting her sword hang loosely at her side but deliberately not placing it back in its sheath. She wanted to be ready for anything.

"Why do you want to speak with the commander?" Atrix asked, eyeing the blade of her sword from beneath his thick dark eyebrows.

Callisto shook her head at him.

"I don't have time to explain it. Caelon's on his way here right now," she waved in the direction of the village gate and the forest beyond.

Her heart was beginning to beat faster as she felt her desperation growing. The light of the sun on her face was becoming stronger with each passing moment as it rose higher and higher into the sky. The morning was grinding on and time was running out.

"He's coming in force, at least sixty men," She continued, "When they get here they won't have mercy on any of you!"

She turned to the crowd of villagers that was still gathering, her eyes becoming imploring. She could feel her chest tighten and her stomach turn as images of the village in flames skipped across the surface of her thoughts. They had to listen to her! They had to! This could not be another Cirra!

"Please!" She said, the first hints of unease cracking at the edges of her voice. "You all need to listen to me! When they get here, there won't be any mercy. They won't spare any of you. They will take anything of value they can find, and to find it they will rip apart your homes, raise the village all around you, put any to the sword who resist them, and enslave the rest who don't!"

She turned back to the mercenaries, doing her best to make meaningful eye contact with each of them as she continued

"Methades already knows this, and if I'm right, he's betrayed all of you the same way he's betrayed all of them," she said, gesturing expansively at the crowd of villagers.

Atrix's frown deepened as she spoke.

"What are you saying?" he said, a look of honest bafflement creeping into his eyes.

"She's saying I can't be trusted," came that same smugly confident voice Callisto was already learning to despise. Methades and the final number of mercenaries came into view from behind the inn, bringing their saddled horses and weapons with them. He was clad in the elaborate bronze armour he had worn when Callisto had first met him, that fine sword of his belted at his waist and the peacock plumed helmet tucked under his free arm as he walked. The hand gripping it was wrapped in a clean bandage, clearly freshly applied that very morning.

"She's saying that I am in some kind of league with Caelon and his bandits, and that I plan to sail you all across the Styx when this imagined attack comes," he eyed her with wry amusement as he spoke and Callisto felt the sudden overwhelm urge to take her stiletto dagger and slit his throat. "Isn't that right 'Eve'?"

She looked the the mercenary commander up and down cautiously. There was something about the way he had spoken her false name just then, some sharp edged hint of mockery that she did not like.

"That's about the shape of it, yes," she nodded back.

Methades just shot her a derisive sneer.

"This woman," he said, turning to Atrix as he did so, but speaking loudly enough that the whole crowd could here, "is not to be trusted. She is trying to turn the whole village against us through deceit and treachery."

"No, no, I'm not trying to turn it against any of them," Callisto interjected, pointing directly at Methades. "Just you."

She hoped it was true and that he was the only member of the mercenaries in league with Caelon.

"She is lying to you Atrix," Methades continued, shooting her a dark look out of the corner of his eyes as he spoke. "Lying to you the same way she is lying to all of us. She is not who she claims to be."

Callisto gave a mental curse. She already knew exactly what was coming next. Of course he would know the truth. He just had to. Fate had always hated her.

Methades flashed her a victorious smirk, that went unnoticed by the other mercenaries as they fixed their attention on her. Atrix only regarded her with that same flat measuring stare she was growing to dislike intensely.

"Is it true?" he asked.

"About Caelon coming to burn this village to the ground?" Callisto said, stalling for time. "Absolutely."

"I meant about who you are."

"Oh that," Callisto only shrugged.

"Who are any of us really?" she said.

Atrix stepped closer to her, and Callisto was surprised to see an unexpected look of hurt behind the flat stare. Had he really trusted her?

"Who are _you _really?" he said.

Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Dahlia amongst the crowd of villagers. She was watching Callisto with an expectant look on her face. Callisto felt her throat go strangely dry and swallowed. She had not expected this, and she certainly had not expected it to be so difficult.

"Tell me!" Atrix snapped, his unflinching stare hardening as he waited for her answer.

For some reason, she was finding it hard to meet his gaze. She had never had it happen before save with Zeus. Normally it was the other way around. Instead she could only look over his shoulder at Methades and that infuriating glint of victory that shone behind his eyes.

"Alright, okay," she said tightly. "My name isn't Eve."

She took a deep breath.

"It's Callisto,"

A couple of the mercenaries faces paled the moment she finished speaking. Tarthus looked like he was going to be physically sick and already some of the villagers were murmuring worriedly to one another. Methades' face was split with a triumphant smile, but Dahlia looked oddly unsurprised. Atrix's expression on the other hand had turned ashen.

"Callisto," he said, the word sounding strange on his tongue. "_The_ Callisto?"

She only nodded in return.

"That means you're a..." Atrix began, but Callisto cut him off.

"I know exactly what I am," she snapped at him. "I don't need you to remind me."

She pointed savagely at Methades again.

"I also know exactly what he is."

Methades let out a dry chuckle.

"Getting desperate are we?" he laughed. "Come on then. What does all of this make me other than a man trying to defend this village from a marauding bandit and now an insane warrior woman into the bargain?"

Callisto cast him glowering look.

"Evasive," she said, her tone sharp and biting.

She turned her stare back to Atrix.

"Dodged the original accusation quite nicely, didn't he?" she said. "Catches me in a lie and redirects attention away from him. Two can play at that little game though."

She nodded toward the bandage that wrapped the hand clutching the helmet.

"Care to tell us how you got that gouge on your hand?" she said.

Methades looked down at it and frowned.

"What does it have to do with..." his voice trailed off as he realised exactly where she was heading and a visible pale settled over him.

"Siren steal your voice?" Callisto sneered, "Or just your dinars?"

Atrix was frowning at Methades now, a confused look spreading across his face.

"Commander?" he said, clearly puzzled by Methades' silence.

The mercenary commander gave an uneasy swallow.

"I got it at the Headstone," he said finally. "When we were capturing you."

"Only I didn't give it to you did I?" Callisto probed, a warm feeling of satisfaction spreading through her as she watched the first beads of sweat appear on Methades' forehead. "Those incense burners can be a real hazard can't they? All those nasty sharp edges."

Methades' face went from merely pale to a sickly white.

"I don't understand," Atrix said, turning more fully to face Methades, his back now firmly to Callisto. "What's she talking about Commander?"

"I'm talking about four hundred dinars split two ways, half stuffed into an incense burner at the Headstone," Callisto said, moving to stand beside Atrix as she did so. "I'm talking about two hundred dinars to pay a bandit gang to run rampant, causing enough fear and terror to keep these people here paying for a mercenary band to protect them."

Atrix fell silent, his eyes downcast as he tried to process the sudden revelation. Around them the villagers' disquiet was growing and even the mercenaries were beginning to look uncomfortable, their eyes sliding to focus on their commander.

She turned back to Methades. He seemed to be recovering, squaring his shoulders and straightening as he lifted his chin to glare back defiantly at her. He was not about to go down without a fight.

"You have no proof," he said simply, then turned to face the villagers.

"All this woman claims is heresay!" he announced loudly. "They are just words on the wind. She comes here under a false name, and for all we know false pretenses! She is Callisto, the butcher of a hundred villages just like this, from here all the way to Athens! She is not here to help, only to try and sew dissent using lies and paranoia to turn you all against us, your protectors!"

He gestured to take in the other mercenaries, who shifted uncomfortably at being suddenly dragged into the middle of the argument.

"For all we know, she could be trying to have you drive us out, leaving yourselves utterly defenseless against her own armies! She is a murderer, plain and simple, more akin to Caelon and his marauding bandits than she is to any of you! I say we treat her the same way we treat all the bandits we capture!" He nodded toward the gallows at the center of the green where the bodies of the three men taken in captive in the previous raid still hung.

"String her up and leave her to Hades' judgement," he finished.

The villager's murmurings continued to grow louder, several beginning to be raised in agreement with Methades. As they cried out for her head, Callisto could feel the tide of opinion turning against her like waves of anger rippling through the crowd, and with each fresh ripple came a fresh voice crying out for justice. She began to feel a tightening sensation in her chest. She gripped her sword tightly, all around her the cries for blood growing louder and louder as the fearful villagers turned one by one against her.

"Lay so much as a finger on me, and I will take your heads!" she growled threateningly, her tone giving a few of the villagers around her pause, but only for a moment.

Slowly the ring of people surrounding her began to grow smaller, like a hangman's noose tightening around her neck as a number of the braver men advanced. She gritted her teeth and lifted her sword again. She was not about to end her brief stint back in the world of the living at the business end of a knotted rope. The familiar spark of fury ignited in her gut, a rage burning hot and fueled by the injustice of it all. She was trying to help these people!

Her lip curled up in a silent snarl of anger and she shifted her weight, her feet parting in the dirt, ready to spring at the nearest man. Then, in the back of her mind, she could feel it, a strange and dark anticipation, silent and invisible but waiting patiently none the less. For a brief instant, the half remembered dreams of the last few nights flooded back to her and an image of Penthos in flames filled her thoughts. The sound of her own sadistic mocking laughter echoed unheard to all but her, just beyond the edge of hearing. She felt a shiver run down her spine as a chill feeling of realisation clawed desperately at her heart, extinguishing the fury and hatred in an instant. With a cry of frustration she threw her sword down into the dirt. She could not do it. She could not kill these people purely for trying to defend their homes.

A number of the villagers paused at that, their angry stares turning worried and wary. Methades was not about to let them give up so easily however. He strode to Callisto's side, glaring angrily at them all.

"Don't be fooled!" He yelled. "This is a woman who has ruined lives across all of Greece and now she is trying to do the same here! You will not be safe until she is ended!"

Some of the villagers began to give nods of agreement, and quickly the angry cries began to rise again.

"Wait!" Dahlia's voice rang out, cutting off the various angry shouts as she came forward, elbowing her way through the ring of people encircling them to stand face to face with Methades. She had to crane her head back to look the taller man in the eye but appeared none the less furious for it.

"You say 'we', Commander Methades, as if you were one of us," she snapped sounding just like her father before her. "I'll remind you, here and now, that you are not. And as for the rest of you..."

She turned her hard stare on the rest of the villagers

"What are you all doing!" she said, her voice raised high so all could hear. "We are a village who values justice! Those men hanging over there received just such justice for the crimes they committed against us. What crimes has she committed here?"

She gestured to Callisto.

"To my mind, all she has done since her arrival is save myself, my husband and my child. Hardly offenses worthy of a hanging."

The mob of villagers surrounding them shifted uneasily, the mood changing as suddenly as if they had all been doused in water, but Dahlia didn't stop there.

"Justice is not served by an angry lynch mob!" She decried. "We will answer the charges being leveled here and now, but we will do so as we have always done and judge them by the accused's own words and actions!"

She rounded on Callisto.

"Do you deny having lied to us about who you are?" she began, her tone strong but flat.

Callisto blinked, surprised by the other woman's strength. It was a strength she had not expected based on how they had first met. Then, Dahlia's life had been in her hands. Now, rather poetically, their roles had been reversed.

"No," she said, shaking her head while Methades watched Dahlia, a curious frown on his face.

"Do you deny that you are Callisto, a warlord from the north who has committed numerous acts of savagery and barbarism?" There was a pleading look in Dahlia's eyes at that, as if some part of her hoped it still were not true.

Callisto fixed her with a steady gaze.

"No," she said again.

The words hit Dahlia hard, and she visibly flinched under them. Then her expression stiffened, her eyes narrowing and her mouth setting itself in a grim line.

"Have you committed wrongs against the people of this village?" she said, her voice as hard as her features had become.

Callisto shook her head again.

"No," she said.

Dahlia leaned in closer.

"Did you save the lives of myself, my husband and my unborn baby?" she said, softer now, almost encouraging.

Callisto could feel Methades' eyes on her. The commander of the mercenaries was still frowning but a look of worry was beginning to inch across his brow.

"Yes," she said with a nod.

At that Dahlia turned back to the villagers, raising her voice so all could hear.

"There we have the facts." she said plainly. "She is a woman who has done wrong, and much of it. But she has never done so here or to any of us. We are not kings lording over this land and we are not the wronged here. As such we have no right to punish her for her crimes."

A few in the crowd gave discontented mutterings at that, but most simply shifted uncomfortably and gave nods of ascent. Callisto felt the tightness in her chest fading and gave a nod of gratitude to Dahlia. The other woman only looked back at her sadly before turning back to Methades.

"We are not finished yet," she said. "You also stand accused Commander Methades."

The commander of the mercenaries grunted in response.

"I thought you would say as much," he said, and gestured to Callisto.

"The woman has admitted to lying and, more importantly, she has no proof to back up her accusation of me."

"Actually," Callisto interrupted, taking the opening that Methades was inadvertantly offering, "I do have proof."

She stepped up next to Dahlia, giving Methades one of her finest sadistic grins as she felt the tables beginning to turn in her favour.

"Care to show us the four hundred dinars? If I'm right you were only paid a few days ago, so you should still have most of it to hand." Her grin split even wider, her teeth glinting a predatory white as it did so. "Unless you've left it somewhere. Like an incense burner in the Headstone that has a lid so heavy and sharp you managed to cut your hand on it."

Methades lip curled up in a silent snarl, but he did not move.

"Do you deny the accusation?" Dahlia said, her voice taking on the same stoney quality it had had when she had been questioning Callisto.

"This is preposterous! You're all as patently insane as this woman!" Methades snorted then gestured toward Callisto.

"If all it takes is the word of one proven liar to discredit me in your eyes then I will not darken your village with presence any longer," he sneered sarcastically. "My men and I will leave before the day is done. Your fate is now your own."

He began to turn to leave, motioning to the other mercenaries to follow him as he did so. It was then Callisto heard the familiar sibilant hiss of a sword being drawn, and her eyes widened. Atrix was standing behind Methades, his sword held ready and pointing at the commander.

"Answer the question sir," he said.

"Atrix," Methades began placatingly, "You can't seriously be saying you believe all of this nonsense!"

Atrix gave one of his non committal shrugs.

"Her story is not impossible." he said simply with a nod toward Callisto, "and it would answer a lot. You were left alone at the Headstone while myself and Tarthus searched the tunnels beneath it. There was plenty of time for you to hide the money Callisto is talking about and she was hidden in the room with you the whole time."

Methades' eyes narrowed threateningly, his bandaged hand moving to hover over his sword hilt as Callisto began to stoop for her own discarded blade. Tensions were flaring and she did not want to be caught unprepared.

"Out of my way Atrix," the commander hissed. "I am ordering you."

Atrix did not so much twitch.

"Where's the money sir," he said, his grip on the sword in his hands unwavering.

Methades gave a resigned sigh.

"Oh Atrix," he said with a regretful shake of his head. "You should have ended this when you had the chance."

Callisto's fingers were closing around the hilt of her own sword when Methades burst into motion. He span quickly, his arm shooting out and seizing Dahlia roughly by the bicep and whirling her around to hold her tightly between himself and Atrix.

Atrix was already moving, his blade rising for a clean killing strike aimed at the commander's neck but, like at the Headstone, he was already moving too slowly.

The wounded hand that had been hovering over Methades' sword hilt instead whipped up, untucking a sharp edged dagger from a concealed spot beneath his armour. It flashed menacingly in the sunlight as he pressed it hard against Dahlia's throat. A thin sliver of blood welled up where the blade's sharp edge pinched at the skin.

Atrix's eyes widened in alarm and with the greatest of effort he managed to arrest his swing to prevent the sword strike from decapitating his own wife.

Callisto seized her sword quickly and straightened, advancing on Methades from behind. A murderous intent was filling her now but, unlike Sev, Methades was not going to be as easily surprised. He span on the spot, doing his best to keep the other mercenaries, Atrix and Callisto all in view. Around them Atrix's comrades were standing seemingly dumbfounded by their commander's unexpected turn. Tarthus was the first to react, bringing his sword up into a crossed guard. The others followed suit a moment later, all of them regarding Methades warily as he began to back away from them toward the horses.

"Don't anybody move!" their former commander hissed at them. "If even one of you tries to take me, this idiot girl here will have her throat cut!"

As if for emphasis, he squeezed the dagger blade tighter against Dahlia's throat so hard that she was forced to lift her chin to avoid the dagger cutting any deeper into her flesh.

"There's no where for you to go Methades," Callisto said, advancing on him while Atrix moved in parallel with her, his own weapon raised and ready to strike.

"That's precisely where you're wrong," Methades snapped back at her. He began to walk backwards away from the ring of people toward the waiting saddled horses, dragging a struggling Dahlia with him.

"Back!" he shouted dangerously at the villagers clustered around them. "All of you get back before I slit her from ear to ear!"

Callisto could feel a growing sense of dread gnawing at the back of her mind. Yet again, someone worth far more to the world than she, had come to her aid and as always the fates were about to punish them for doing so. She could not let it happen. Not again, and certainly not to Dahlia. She could not fail the daughter as she had already failed the father.

"Methades!" she snapped loudly attempting to draw his attention. His wild eyed stare snapped back to her, all pretense of the noble mercenary commander having fallen away to reveal a man of pent up loathing and disdain.

"Let Dahlia go," she said, her voice dropping low and threatening. "If you even try to hurt her I'll..."

"You'll what?" the other man spat, clearly unimpressed.

"I will make sure you're dead before the sun goes down," she snarled back.

Atrix used the moment's distract to begin to angle away from Callisto and to the left, his face a grim mask as he attempted to circle around to flank his former commander. Methades rooted him to the spot with a single withering warning glance.

"No!" he sneered. "You stay right where I can see you."

He continued to back away from them, the horses now only a couple of steps away. They whinnied nervously, sensing the thick tension that hung in the air around them.

"And you!" he snarled as he turned back to Callisto. "You ruined everything! I had a good deal going here. These villagers needed us! They needed our strength, and we needed a place to ply our trade! Who cares if any of it was real or not? It kept Caelon and his thugs in check, kept these villagers alive!"

"My father cares!" Dahlia managed to choke out from from beneath the blade of the dagger.

"Ah yes," Methades said, his voice dripping with derision, "Good old Silas, the loving father and compassionate voice of Penthos! Yet strangely, now nowhere to be seen, even when his own daughter is in danger? I wonder where he could be? The last any of us knew he was riding out with your friend over there."

He nodded smugly toward Callisto, and squeezed the dagger tightly.

"Care to tell us what happened to him?" he hissed.

She knew what he was doing. The situation was quickly escalating all around them and his time was running out. The other mercenaries were fanning out in a wide circle, one or two of them even having the foresight to move toward some of the saddled horses that had strayed from the rest. If he did not break for freedom soon, Methades would have nowhere to run to. His own men would surround him and cut him down before he even made it out of the village, and so he was stalling, playing for time, but if she was going to get Dahlia out of this alive, she had no choice but to play along.

Her gaze met Dahlia's and she felt her throat ache. She had not wanted to tell her like this.

"He was with me at the Headstone," she began, her voice leaden and heavy, as if the words did not want to come. "We had just found the money when Caelon and his bandits arrived to collect it themselves. We tried to escape. My horse was wounded and your father..."

Her voice trailed off as she searched for the words. How had she ever taken pleasure in this? How had she managed to avoid the crushing weight of her own sins for so long? She swallowed and started again.

"Your father... he..." she looked Dahlia in the eye, and felt the words seize in her throat at the look of heart rending realisation dawning on the other woman's face.

"I'm so sorry," she managed finally, realising she did not have to say the rest.

Tears ran in streaks down Dahlia's cheeks, her struggles against Methades lessening as he dragged her toward the horses.

"Touching," Methades smiled cruelly as he reached the horses, "Truly touching, but now I'm afraid, it's time I made my exit. Oh and Atrix,"

He turned his cruel grin on his former lieutenant.

"Consider this a gift, for all your years of loyal service," His hand began to tighten on the dagger, preparing to draw it swiftly across Dahlia's throat.

"NO!" Atrix roared, and threw himself forward in desperation.

The next moments seemed to happen all at once. Methades let out a howl of agony as a grief stricken Dahlia, still unwilling to give up without a fight, twisted her head and sunk her teeth into the bandaged hand that gripped the dagger, causing it to drop harmlessly from his grasp. The former commander of the mercenaries shoved her roughly away from him, causing her to stumble and fall in the path of one of the horses as she went. Callisto began to dart forward, desperate to reach the other woman.

Methades wasted no more time, grasping the saddle pommel of the same horse which Dahlia had fallen in front of and vaulting up astride the animal in a single practiced motion. With a loud yell, he booted the animals flanks, urging it to an immediate gallop. Callisto felt her heart stop as she realised she would never make it to Dahlia before she was trampled. Suddenly Atrix was there, pulling Dahlia desperately to her feet and out of the path of the oncoming horse as the Methades thundered past, lashing the animal with its reins as he did so.

Callisto felt the fury overcoming her again, a haze of anger settling over her thoughts like the thick smoke that had choked her in Cirra. She ripped the stiletto dagger free of the bracer at her wrist, and flicked it in the air to test its balance before hurling it with all her strength after the fleeing man. To her dismay, it missed by mere inches, sailing cleanly through the air to land soundlessly in the soft grass of the village green.

She let out a furious snarl and launched herself after the horse, her feet pounding against the grass, her arms pumping desperately as she sprinted to catch Methades. It was all in vain, though and in only a few more moments, he had rounded a corner behind the village buildings and disappeared from sight, obviously making for the village gate. She gave a cry of frustration as she skidded to stop, her chest heaving as she caught her breath. Spinning on her heel, she turned and stalked over to where her dagger had fallen, snatching it up out of the dew moistened turf with a grunt. She began to walk back to the others, wiping the dagger dry on her leathers as she did so. As she walked she felt the anger drain out of her immediately at the sight before her. The villagers were standing around in stunned silence. A couple of the mercenaries seemed to be heading for their horses, but Tarthus seemed to have taken charge, surprisingly, and was ordering them not to.

It was Dahlia that made her heart sink. The other woman was kneeling in the grass, Atrix cradling her tenderly from behind as she wept bitterly, clinging tightly to the arm he had wrapped around her chest as a drowning person would cling to driftwood.

"Please!" she said, lifting her tear streaked face to Callisto's. "Please tell me my father's alright! Please tell me he's still out there somewhere!"

"I'm sor..." Callisto began to apologise again but Dahlia cut her off sharply.

"NO!" She snapped at her. "I don't want your apology! I want you to lie to me, like you've been doing since you came here! I want you to tell me everything's okay, that you saved him the way you saved me!"

Callisto regarded the other woman sadly, unsure how to answer her. She could feel that familiar pang in her stomach more keenly than ever before and now she finally thought she had a name for it. The guilt sat in her gut, a heavy, aching thing, more unbearable even than the agonising sense of loss that had pained her for so long.

"I think I've lied to you enough," she managed finally, not knowing what else to say.

Dahlia did not reply. Instead, she doubled over, her cries of grief becoming mournful howls as her tears stained the ground beneath them.

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: **Whoo! This was easily the toughest chapter I've had to write. The weird thing is I'm not sure why. It took me a while to get into the flow of it, but in the end it turned out pretty well. The next chapter updates may take a while, as I'm coming up on the end of the story and I will probably wait until I have finished all the remaining chapters before uploading so as to avoid giving it piecemeal and making it hard to follow. Anyway, hope everyone who is still reading it at this point is enjoying it and that you all like this latest installment.


	13. Chapter Twelve: First Things First

**Chapter Twelve: First Things First**

The inn common room was silent as Callisto slipped inside. Outside, the village was a veritable hive of activity and bustle as dozens of people, Methades' former men included, moved this way and that, making preparations for Caelon's imminent assault but at the same time making precious little progress. Inside the inn was quiet though. No one was present, the majority of people in the village otherwise occupied and the fireplace sat cold and untended, a black smear of charcoal and ash staining the cobbled stone at its base. Very little light filtered in from outside, save the open door through which she had entered and a dimness had settled over the corners of the inn furthest from the entrance. All else was silent and empty. Nothing stirred or made a sound save her own footsteps on the hard stone floor. It was precisely the way she wanted it. She needed time to think, away from the palpable air of tension outside and the expectant looks the villagers and the mercenaries had been giving her.

What did they think she was going to do? Magically ride out and stop Caelon single handed? She had done everything she could think of to help them, as Zeus and Hades would no doubt be expecting her to do, and so far the only tangible result had been the death of Silas and the very near death of Dahlia. Hardly the shining example of a champion they were hoping for.

With a long tired exhale, she crossed the room and slipped onto the same bench she had sat at the previous morning with Atrix and Dahlia. Unsheathing her weapons, she dropped her sword, and the stiletto dagger onto the surface of the table with a dull thud. In the dim half light of the common room the blades looked tired and lifeless, their normally wicked edges dulled by the omnipresent gloom.

She laced her fingers together and hunched forward over the table, regarding them levelly. Weapons like these had defined her life for so long that they almost felt like extensions of her, as much a part of her as her fingers or her sense of smell. They had dominated her and she in turn had devoted so much effort to their mastery that she could barely remember the other simple activities of her life before, like working a field with her father, or helping her sister on market days.

She sniffed, a dull ache throbbing in the back of her throat. It must have been dust. She coughed loudly but the ache did not subside.

Were the weapons truly an extension of her or, more worryingly now she found herself thinking about it, was she merely an extension of them? She had always considered her own goals paramount. Exacting revenge for the deaths of her family had been the single overriding pursuit which she followed, but looking back, she realised that much of her time recently had been spent in service of others, her own aims twisted to suit those of any who would use her. Had she simply become only a weapon? A thing to be pointed at the enemy and unleashed when the time came? Was that what she was to Zeus now? Once, thoughts like this would not have phased her in the slightest. Nor, if she was being brutally honest with herself, would they even have really occurred to her so long as she had been getting her own way into the bargain. She had been nothing if not single minded.

She gave another sigh as she continued to stare evenly at the weapons lying on the table. Where had that single mindedness gone now? At first the deal had seemed so simple. Play the hero for Zeus, and hope that he and Hades would hold up their end and grant her a place in the paradise that was Elysium. It could not have been any simpler or clearer were it printed on a scroll of parchment and signed in triplicate, yet somewhere, somehow, things had become much more complicated. Now she had people looking to her as if she were some kind of saviour, and she had no idea what to do about it. Instead all she could think of was the image of Dahlia kneeling in the grass, being cradled by Atrix as she wept and wept. Now she was starting to think of the others as well, a hundred different faces, all terrified and weeping, while the sound of her own cruel laugh echoed hauntingly on the wind.

She was dragged up out of the bleakness of her thoughts by the sound of someone clearing their throat. She looked up from the table to see Atrix descending from the inn's second floor. She wondered for a moment why he was coming downstairs, before remembering that he and Dahlia had become guests at the inn after Silas' home had burned down. Dahlia was presumably upstairs somewhere, grieving most likely.

"What are you doing here?" Atrix asked, descending the rest of the flight of stairs and crossing to the table at which she was seated.

"Just drinking in the homely atmosphere," Callisto replied sarcastically, trying to take her mind off the image of her own maniacally grinning face that had come to her unbidden.

She glanced toward the stairs.

"How's she doing?" she asked softly.

Atrix followed her gaze and gave a shrug.

"As well as can be expected considering her father just died," he said giving her a sidelong look.

"I told him to go on without me," Callisto said defensively, trying hard not to think of Silas' limp fall from his saddle, the arrow jutting from his chest. "I told him to ride. He didn't listen."

"Sounds about right," Atrix said. "Silas was a good man and he cared for people, perhaps more than he should have."

He gave her a pointed look, and Callisto suddenly felt annoyed at him.

"You really are a master of tact aren't you," she said, her eyes narrowing.

Atrix only gave another shrug. For long moments the two of them said nothing, silence once again falling over the common room.

"Why did you drag him along with you?" Atrix asked finally. "Silas was no warrior. You had to know the dangers. Why not ask me to go with you instead?"

Callisto rolled her eyes at him.

"Oh please!" she groaned. "How could I trust you? I didn't know if any or all of you were in on it with Methades, and if I remember rightly you were fairly defensive of him yesterday."

She lowered her eyes back to the weapons lying on the table.

"Silas knew who I was the moment he laid eyes on me," she said sadly. "He knew my secret, what I was, and he still didn't tell anyone. He was the only person I knew would listen, the only person I was certain I could convince."

She gave a pained grunt.

"Look where that got him," she said.

"Silas made his own choices, Callisto," Atrix replied. "You didn't kill him."

She felt her temper flare at that.

"You think I'm an idiot?" she spat. "I know full well who killed him and I intend to make sure they suffer for it."

"You're all talk."

"What's that supposed to mean?" she demanded angrily.

Atrix leaned back slightly, folding his arms as he did so.

"Exactly what it sounds like," he replied, his tone challenging. "Sitting here and brooding won't accomplish anything. It certainly won't punish those responsible for Silas' death."

He gestured toward the door to the inn and the villagers and mercenaries beyond.

"There are people out there Callisto, good people, trying to decide what they should be doing. They've got a marauding bandit gang bearing down on them, and no one's stepping up to lead."

Callisto looked up at him. There had been a suggestion in his tone she had not liked the sound of. He was looking at her meaningfully, eyebrows raised with the same look of expectation as the rest of the village.

"Oh no! No, no, no, no," she protested. "You can't be serious! Look, I'll help however I can, I'll even fight if you trust me to, but you can't ask me to command these people!"

"You've done it before," Atrix said matter-of-factly.

Callisto arched her eyebrows at him.

"Yeah!" She sneered. "An army that murdered and pillaged its way across half of Greece, and I didn't care one bit how many of those men lived or died under me. They were just tools for me to get what I wanted done. I had to slit my second in command's throat just to make a point for Hades' sake! Hardly the stuff inspiring leaders are made from."

"We don't need inspiration," Atrix replied. "Just someone who can think around a problem."

She fixed him with a level stare.

"What about you?" She said. "This was going to be your home after all, and I imagine your men out there would be happier following your orders than mine."

Atrix only shook his head.

"I'm just a soldier, Callisto," he said. "I fight for who ever is paying me that day. Methades was always the one with the plan, always the one thinking ten steps ahead of the rest of us. While we were counting our money he was already deciding the next job."

His expression darkened, the muscles in his jaw tightening. It was the closest he seemed to get to showing any kind of anger.

"And now he's gone," he finished with a sigh, his shoulders sagging as the anger went out of him. "None of that matters though. You saw through his lies and his scheme when no one else did. When he was ten steps ahead, you were elven, and I know you can do the same thing with Caelon. You're the best hope any of us have of surviving what's coming."

Callisto could feel her heart sinking as he spoke. He was not about to let this drop. She twisted on the bench, glancing back over her shoulder at the people outside. One or two families had dragged wagons onto the green and were beginning to load them up with provisions and valuables. Others seemed to be making a pile of whatever musty pieces of martial equipment they could scrounge up from around the village, which amounted to little more than some battered old breast plates, dented helmets and a few rusty looking swords. Atrix's fellow mercenaries were set up toward the center of the green, grimly polishing and sharpening their weapons, double and triple checking their gear, and generally trying to look stoic in the face of the overwhelming odds heading their way.

Could she really make herself responsible for _all_ these people? Was this what Zeus had wanted her to do? Was this what he'd meant when he said he had wanted a champion? She could feel her heart beginning to beat faster. She had spent her entire adult life never caring about anyone but herself. She had never been responsible for anyone else, never considered anyone else, but now here was Atrix, asking her to attach herself to them in a way she had not done in so very very long. What if she failed? She did not want to see Penthos burn like Cirra, did not want to see Atrix, Dahlia and the others die, and all because of her.

She turned back to him, a look of pain etched across her face.

"I can't," she said, her voice pleading and genuinely apologetic. "It's too much and too soon Atrix. I can't take responsibility for everyone here."

"You already have," came a third voice.

The two of them twisted in their seats. Dahlia had emerged from her room, and now stood at the top of the stairs, her hand clasped tightly around the stair rail and managing to look surprisingly haughty considering her swollen belly and eyes made puffy and red from crying.

"You've been taking that responsibility since you came here," she said sternly, "since you saved myself and Atrix, since you decided to challenge Methades and his lies, since my father..."

She trailed off and she sniffed.

"...The point is, Callisto," she continued, her voice sounding strange as she spoke Callisto's name, almost as if she couldn't quite believe what she was saying, "that you haven't exactly been a bystander in all of this. You could have ridden out of town yesterday. Instead you chose to stay and involve yourself."

She came down the stairs slowly, one hand holding her belly as she moved to sit beside Atrix.

"Dahlia," Callisto began, trying to think of some way to convince her. "I can't lead these people. If you want to win, if you want to be free of Caelon, it will mean people dying and I don't want to be responsible for that. Not any more."

Dahlia snorted derisively at her.

"Don't give me that nonsense." she scoffed, fixing Callisto with a red rimmed look, her eyes blazing with grief and anger. "You're just afraid. The big bad warlord Callisto, cowering at an inn while good people get ready to die."

Callisto's eyes narrowed. She could feel her temper flaring as she glared back at the other woman. Without a word, she surged to her feet, the anger burning hotly inside her as she snatched her weapons from the table and turned to stalk outside.

"What's the matter? Afraid that protecting lives for once might actually be harder than ending them?"

Dahlia's words echoed in her head, their cruel spiteful tone fraying her nerves. Her grip on the dagger tightened as she walked, the leather wrapping around the hilt creaking slightly beneath her fingers. What did Dahlia know about anything? Her pain was nothing! Her loss was nothing! She could not understand and she never would!

"Tell me, was this your plan all along?" the other woman shouted, her voice rising angrily. "Just kick the hornet's nest and run? The stories my father told me were all true! He was right about you! You're no hero! "

The last comment pushed her past the tipping point, the anger boiling inside her brimming over into full fledged rage. With a scream of purest hatred, she pivoted, throwing her dagger so hard that it embedded itself upright in the table mere inches from Dahlia. Atrix was on his feet in an instant, his hand flying to the sword at his hip, but Callisto already had her own blade up and waiting for him. To her credit, Dahlia barely even flinched.

"Your father knew _nothing_ about me!" Callisto yelled at her. "_You_ know nothing about me!"

"I know that we're depending on you!" Dahlia shouted back at her, "Depending on you to see this through to the bitter end. We need you!"

Callisto could feel the anger inside her turning to water and draining away in a great flood of confusion.

"Why me!?" She cried. "No one _needs_ me! Why do you?"

"I already told you." Dahlia said, her voice turning softer now, almost gentle. "It's what heroes do."

Callisto felt the last vestiges of her anger draining away. In their place, all she could feel was a deep, hollow and bone numbing weariness.

"And I told you, I'm not a hero," she said.

She felt her shoulders slump as she crossed back to the table and tugged the dagger free with an audible crunch of wood. Carefully, she tucked it back into her bracer and sheathed her sword across her back.

She eyed the two of them wearily. Atrix was slowly beginning to relax, the tension easing out of his shoulders as he began to seat himself again. He did not sheath his sword though. Dahlia merely continued to sit at the table, her eyes still blazing defiantly as she waited for Callisto's decision. Callisto let out a long, deep groan as she made her choice.

"Well then," she said finally. "I suppose now that we've cleared all that up, we should get started don't you think?"

Dahlia breathed a heavy sigh of relief at that, and suddenly her whole demeanor changed, all trace of the furious young woman she had been vanishing in an instant. Now she just looked tired. Tired and so very small and sad.

"Oh thank Olympus," she said, the relief evident in her voice.

"You could thank me," Callisto replied. "The gods haven't done anything."

"Neither have you yet," Dahlia shot back.

Callisto only shrugged and shot Atrix a knowing look.

"Quite the game face your wife has," she said.

"You should see her getting me to do the dishes," he replied with an amused half smirk.

Callisto responded with a dry chuckle of her own while Dahlia rolled her eyes in exasperation.

"If you're both finished, we have plans to make," she said.

Atrix gave a slight nod and leaned forward over the table, his manner suddenly all business.

"So, any ideas?" he asked.

Callisto's mind was already racing as she weighted options and strategies, a dozen different courses of action taking shape in her mind. One particular plan she was sure would work, but it would probably also cost them the lives of half the villagers. She discarded it quickly, trying hard to think of ways to preserve as many lives as she could but the risks always seemed high. She had never had to think like this before. In the past casualties and collateral damage had not really been a massive concern. Finally she turned to Atrix.

"One or two," she said. "I'll need your men to make it work though."

Atrix gave another nod.

"We'll have your back," he said, a note of relief in his voice as he spoke.

"Okay then," Callisto said, clambering to her feet and walking out of the inn, Atrix and Dahlia doing the same and following close behind her.

As they stepped out into the mid morning sun, she frowned up at the sky. Time was already passing too quickly. They had no more of it to waste.

"First things first," she said. "The trail is the only way in or out of the basin, am I right?"

Atrix nodded.

"Yes. We ran patrols of it every day for just that reason."

"Then its safe to say we know where Caelon's attack will be coming from," Callisto replied.

Dahlia looked confused.

"But he could just come from the forest right?" she said. "That's where he's been hiding, after all."

Atrix shook his head.

"No," he said simply. "He'll have to use the trail."

Dahlia only frowned.

"Why?" she asked.

"Because of the stockade," Callisto answered. "Caelon has more than enough men to sack the village, but he has to get through the stockade first, and to do that he'll have to attack in force."

"You can't move sixty odd men, with nearly a third of them on horseback, through a forest and keep your unit together," Atrix interjected. "If Caelon wants to come at us all at once that means he'll have to come along the trail."

Callisto nodded.

"Which means we know exactly where he's coming from, and that gives us an advantage," she said. "Enough of one at least that we should make use of it."

She cast a glance at the crowd of people surrounding her, her gaze focusing on the families who were loading wagons in preparation to flee.

"It also means they can't leave," she said pointing to them. "Caelon's men will hack them into little pieces before they go a mile. Besides, I have an idea for how we can use those wagons."

She stopped walking and turned to face Atrix and Dahlia, a plan now fully formed in her mind. They drew up behind her, their faces attentive and ready.

"Here's what I need," she began. "Dahlia, tell the villagers to get anything and everything they can out of those wagons and their houses; cupboards, tables, chairs, anything at all. I want all the possible routes through the village blocked, except for the one leading from the stockade entrance direct to the village green."

"You want them in the village!" Atrix exclaimed in surprise. Callisto shot him a hard look.

"Don't question me Atrix," she said. "You want me to lead, you do things my way, how I say and when I say. Clear?"

Atrix looked at her steadily then gave a slight nod.

"Crystal," he said simply.

"Good," she said, and took a deep breath. They weren't going to like the next bit.

She pointed to the hanging bodies of the three bandits that still dangled from the gallows at the centre of the green.

"Next, I want a couple of men to cut those bodies down, and string them up from the village gates."

Dahlia's mouth fell agape to protest but Callisto spoke again quickly, riding rough shod over the other woman's argument.

"We don't have time to be squeamish about this Dahlia," she said. "Fear is what they've been using against you. It's the most effective weapon they have. If we're going to win, we need to turn that weapon back on them. The bodies are part of that. It'll send them a message. 'Attack this village you get the same'."

Dahlia closed her mouth, her protest dying on her lips. Instead she nodded grimly, but the look of distaste was still behind her eyes.

Callisto was already moving on, striding purposefully toward one of the large fire braziers that were scattered at intervals around the village green to keep it lit after dark.

"Do any of those use oil?" she asked.

"Most of them, yes," Atrix nodded.

"So the village has an oil supply?"

"We trade for it when the merchants come for our latest catches," Dahlia said.

"How much of it do you have?" Callisto said, her mind racing. A lot hinged on Dahlia's next answer.

"Winter's not far off, so we've been stockpiling. Enough for a full season. Why?"

Callisto grinned wickedly. The final pieces of her scheme beginning to fall into place.

"Because we'll need all of it," she said and turned to Atrix. "Get your men to start gathering up as much of the oil stores as they can carry. Who are your best scouts?"

"Myself and Tarthus," Atrix answered.

Callisto nodded thoughfully.

"You both have to mount up and get ready to ride out," She said. "We need to know how far Caelon is from the village. I've got a little surprise planned for him, and I want to know where we should be setting it up."

Dahlia's brows knotted together in confusion.

"But why would you need oil to..." she trailed off as she began to realise what Callisto was planning.

"Wait a minute!" she said, the revelation hitting her hard. "This is the same plan you suggested yesterday! You're going to burn the forest aren't you."

Callisto's grin split even wider.

"Maybe just a little bit," she said.

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: **A small chapter this, and mainly because it was originally going to be longer and have a lot more take place, but it was beginning to become messy and would involve too much jumping around perspectives, so I have chosen to split into two chapters again. As a result this will be the final update, before I upload the remainder of the story. Hope everyone enjoys it and have fun reading.


	14. Chapter Thirteen: Crimson Green

**Chapter Thirteen: Crimson Green**

The sun had crested the horizon hours ago and was now climbing high above the trees as Caelon's column of bandits moved steadily along the trail. Caelon himself was seated astride his warhorse, riding at the head of the column and doing his best to keep the animal under control. There was a nervous energy in the air, and the huge stallion could sense it. It snorted loudly as they rode, tossing its thick mane of hair with an accompanying whinny of excitement. Caelon could feel the tension too. It was like this whenever they rode into a raid of course, but this time was different. There had never been such pressure before. Where was Callisto and what was she planning? Why was she even here?

He gave a grunt and tried to drive the thoughts from his mind. Soon they would be attacking Penthos, and he could not afford to allow distractions to cloud his judgment. He tightened his grip on the reigns and glanced around them. The sixty or so men that made up the raiding party were stretched out in a long line, those mounted on horseback at its head while the men on foot strode along behind them never more than three of four abreast. The trail was simply too narrow to allow for anything more than that and it was slowing their progress considerably. It did not seem to be dampening spirits too much though. Most of the men looked eager, anticipation of the pillage writ large across their faces. A few looked less comfortable however, and in places he could hear wisps of dissatisfied muttering, mainly from those who had been loyal to Sev or Herriod. It was hardly surprising really. Both their little ring leaders had met fairly gruesome ends at the hands of Callisto, and the fact she was still at large was causing them concern. Still, he couldn't allow for any dissension, especially not now when they were so close to their goal.

"Tethis!" he called back conversationally to his most loyal surviving lieutenant. It had the casual quality of a friendly chat, but Caelon pitched his voice loud enough so that all could hear.

"Yeah?" Tethis replied.

"How much you reckon you can get for the village girls on the slave markets?"

Tethis gave a shrug. He had never been particularly bright and even simple speculation taxed his mental capacity to the point where he might break out in cold sweats.

"Fifteen dinars a head," he ventured finally. "Maybe twenty if they're pretty."

"You hear that boys?" Caelon said, twisting in his saddle to look back down the column at the other members of his gang. "Tethis here thinks we can make ourselves a pretty penny on the slave markets, and I say he's right!"

He turned and pointed at Milades, one of the newer members of the gang who had fallen in with Herriod upon his arrival.

"How many you plannin' on catchin' Milades?" he shouted.

The other man looked taken aback by the unexpected question.

"Uh... I dunno. Five, maybe six?" he said. The tone of voice was clearly uncertain, but Caelon treated it as if the other man were bragging.

"Oh ho boys!" he shouted in amusement. "Looks like young Milades here's gonna try 'n take 'em all for himself! Make sure to save some for the rest of us why don'ya!"

A ragged chorus of laughter ran up and down the length of the column, and Caelon smiled darkly at them.

"Just remember," he yelled over the top of the laughter, "when we take Penthos, when we burn it to the ground, what all those prissy fishermen think is theirs becomes ours to do with as we please! That's our right! And do you know why?"

The column erupted into an excited hubbub, as Caelon stirred at their ire. He straightened, standing tall in his stirrups, towering over them all from the back of his horse as they continued the march down the trail.

"It's ours because they can't stop us taking it! So today, we take it all!"

A rough and throaty cheer went up from the assembled throng of bandits, raiders and looters as they marched, and Caelon gave a satisfied smile.

"It's going to be fun watching you try."

A woman's voice rang out clearly, cutting through the cheering as sharp and sure as a freshly forged blade. Caelon whipped around, eyes narrowing as he did. It was _her! _She was standing just up the trail from the column, leaning nonchalantly against a tree, the thin stiletto dagger she carried unsheathed and being used to pick the dirt from under her nails. Caelon raised his fist, drawing his horse up warily. He made sure to keep his distance from her, but at the same time, tried hard not to look like he was doing just that. Behind him the rest of the column came to a halt, their gear clattering and clanking as they did so.

Callisto looked up at them and flashed them an impish grin that never touched her eyes.

"Such a surprise seeing you all here," she said, straightening and walking into the middle of the trail. She stopped a few meters from Caelon, feet parted with her shoulders turned ever so slightly off center to present a smaller profile to any watching archers and as an equally good lead in for a sword thrust.

Caelon twitched his reins, causing his horse to take a few steps forward and away from the rest of the column. There was a curious scent on the air. It tickled at the back of his mind, familiar yet just out of reach.

"What are you doing here?" he demanded, unlimbering his sword as he spoke.

Behind him he could hear a number of other blades being drawn, the familiar rasp of leather on metal helping his confidence.

"I would've thought that it was plainly obvious," Callisto replied.

Her grin sharpened. It was a sly cat like smile that showed too many teeth and not nearly enough warmth.

"I'm here to stop you," she said.

Caelon sat perfectly still for a moment. Around him all had fallen silent, save for the occasional distant cry of a bird and the soft rustle of the morning breeze in the trees. Finally, he laughed, a big bellowing guffaw that lent the men around him some measure of bravado. Tethis and a few other of his lieutenants began to laugh too, the idea of this sole woman, no matter how skilled she might be, being able to stand up to over sixty men was too patently ridiculous not to.

Strangely, Callisto began to laugh too. It was a rich, playful sound that stood in stark contrast to the more breathy roar coming from the bandits.

"You!?" Caelon managed finally, between the bouts of laughter. "All on your own, you plan to stop us?"

Callisto continued to laugh, her shoulders shaking with each racking giggle that came across her.

"Oh Caelon," she laughed, shaking her head as she did so. "You are just _too_ funny!"

Suddenly Caelon could feel a cold dread settling in the pit of his stomach. He had just realised what that strange smell was.

"After all," she said, the laughter dying on her lips as a look pure rage filled her eyes. "Whoever said I came alone?"

She snapped her fingers loudly, the crack echoing through the trees like a thunder clap.

Caelon tensed as he heard the familiar creaking sound of bow strings tightening against wooden frames. He twisted desperately in his saddle.

"AMBUSH!" he managed to yell, but it was already too late.

There was a loud twanging sound as the unseen bowmen among the trees unleashed upon them, the air suddenly alive with a dozen or more arrows. These were not mere tipped arrows for killing though. Instead each arrow's tip had been wrapped in hessian, doused in oil and lit until it blazed angrily, like a shooting star streaking through the sky.

The arrows fell all around them but few of his men dropped to them. Instead each arrow seemed to find its way unnervingly toward a similarly oil soaked patch of undergrowth. One arrow even fell in the midst of his men. A series of muffled thumps echoed through the trees as each patch of oil ignited, and it was only then that Caelon realised the truth of the trap they had just walked into. Thin trails of blue-orange flame hurtled along paths of oil as if riding in Apollo's own chariot, running in a tight ring that hemmed he and his men in on all sides. The trees themselves began to catch fire as the flames licked hungrily over them, bark splintering and cracking in the heat. A number of the less well trained horses bolted almost immediately as a second round of arrows, this set more traditionally tipped, fell among them. A number of men dropped immediately, screaming as the second volley of arrows found their targets.

"Together!" Caelon yelled over the chaos. "Stay together!"

Already a thick, acrid smoke was beginning to settle over the trail, making anyone more than a few meters from him into hazy indistinct shape. It was a small mercy perhaps. It would keep the bow men concealed in the trees from picking their targets so easily. On the other hand, it would also prevent his men from being able to regroup quickly and his own archers from being able to return fire. He could already hear panicked shouts from some quarters of his group; Herriod and Sev's followers no doubt, many of whom were already fleeing into the trees as best they could manage through the ring of fire that continued to blaze hotter and hotter all around them.

Squinting through the smoke he could just make out a gap in the flames, wide enough for a few men at a time to pass through and continue on down the trail. Out in the smoke his lieutenants were calling to those men around them who still remained, attempting to get them to regroup around Caelon. Slowly but surely he could make out figures moving in closer, forming a tight knit square of bodies around him. Among them he could make out a couple of mounted men, but far fewer than he would have liked.

"Everybody, on me and advance!" he called to the them, and spurred his stallion forward at an easy trot. The huge animal's nostrils flared in barely contained panic as the fires blazed hot and heavy among the trees. For the first time he found himself thankful for the animal's training. A lesser horse would probably already have run. All around, the men who had stood their ground began to move with him, holding tight and looking about themselves warily. Those who clutched shields had them raised to guard against further volleys of arrows but no more seemed to be coming while those with bows were making a token effort to loose their own arrows back into the trees.

"Stay close and keep moving," Caelon snarled angrily.

Slowly but surely they emerged into a clear spot on the trail. It would not remain that way though. The fire would spread soon and they would need to keep pressing forward if they wanted to stay ahead of the flames which were already sweeping out from the original fire in all directions.

It was then he spotted her again, now seated on the back of horse she had clearly hidden in the dense trees just off the trail. It was the same one she had stolen from camp the night before. The animal pranced uneasily so close to the flames, but she controlled it expertly with a dig of her heels and a twitch on the reins.

"I promised I'd send you to Tartarus!" she called down the trail to him.

Her eyes lighted on the fire at Caelon's back and for a moment, he could see something else there. A glint of infernal madness hiding behind that pretty blonde face. She smiled darkly and Caelon felt himself shiver.

"How am I doing so far?" she sneered, and then with a loud cry, she dug her heels into her mount's flank and the animal hurtled off down the trail, her cruel laughter echoing between the trees.

* * *

Less than a kilometer down the trail, Callisto reined in her steed, it's flanks heaving from the sudden burst of speed she had put it through. She twisted in her seat to stare back down the trail. So far there was no sign of pursuit. A sudden cracking of branches sounded to her right and she span in her saddle, her sword seeming to materialise in her hand, she drew it so fast.

"Easy, easy!" said Atrix, raising his hands in surrender as he emerged from the trees. "It's just us."

Tarthus and the remaining mercenaries were following close behind him, all clutching bows and arrows, their faces streaked with soot and their clothes stinking of oil and smoke.

Callisto breathed a heavy sigh of relief.

"Come on," she said, sheathing her sword as she began to trot her horse down the trail. "They'll be coming through here soon."

The mercenaries fell into step alongside her.

"The plan's working then?" Atrix asked, looking up at her as she rode.

Callisto nodded in return.

"We thinned their numbers a bit," she said. "A few scattered, and your arrow volleys downed a few more."

"Doesn't sound like enough," Atrix replied.

Callisto shook her head.

"Not really." she said. "I was hoping for a better result, but it will have to do. The good news is that we at least slowed them down a little. The bad point is that they'll be more cautious now."

They rounded a light bend in the trail to reveal a number of horses tethered to trees, all lined up neatly along the trail.

"Mount up and be quick about it," she ordered. "The sooner we can get back to the village, the more preparations we can make."

The mercenaries nodded and hurried off back to their individual mounts. Atrix and Tarthus' mounts were nearest and the two of them quickly set about unhitching their animals. Callisto turned to look back over her shoulder. Already a thick pillar of smoke was billowing skyward and she could smell its acrid scent on the wind. The fire they had set was spreading. She just hoped the ring of clear ground around the village was enough to protect it should the fire spread as far as the stockade.

"I don't understand," Tarthus was saying to her, as he clambered into his saddle. He still looked uncomfortable when he spoke to her, her threat to break his hands off at the wrists upon their first meeting clearly still vivid in his mind, and the revelation of who she actually was had not helped his confidence one iota.

"Why didn't we push the attack? We had them dead to rights."

"We had surprise on our side," Callisto said. "Not the same thing. There aren't enough of us to push a direct assault and they weren't about to let us keep shooting arrows at them. Caelon would have got clear of the fire and then mustered for an assault. We don't have the numbers to take them in a straight battle. This was just to hurt them, put some fear in them."

Tarthus frowned.

"But you said them being cautious is a bad thing. I thought that was the whole point of this? Make them scared, drive them off."

Callisto shrugged.

"Scared yes, cautious no," she said. "I want them terrified of what we'll do to them. Men like Caelon only know two ways to react to fear. One is to run, and the other is to fight. Caelon, won't run. He'd lose control of the gang if he did."

She glanced back down the trail, her eyes narrowing as she thought of the kind of man she was dealing with. Proud and arrogant, he had shown some degree of low cunning. He only knew one way to control his men though, and that was through strength and intimidation. She had seen it in the way he dealt with Sev and Herriod, and the razor thin veneer of calm that had threatened break at any moment. This battle was now as much about wills as it was swords and bodies. She had to make Caelon's men more scared of her than they were of him. With any luck he would throw caution to the wind and come bungling right into the trap she had set for him in an attempt to reassert his authority. It was hardly the finest plan and it relied a little too much on the few assumptions she had been able to make about his character, but it was the only thing she could think of that would get Caelon and his men fighting on her terms, rather than she and the villagers on theirs.

Around them the mercenaries were now all mounted. With a round of clicked tongues and light kicks they urged their horses to a steady canter as they continued on their way back to Penthos.

"What if he pulls back?" Tarthus asked nervously as they rode. "What if he decides to wait and try again when he's back at full force?"

Callisto shook her head at him.

"He won't," she said. "The fire is spreading, and its at his back. He can't retreat and it will damage his authority with his men if he does. The only other option is to break off into the forest, which would be equally crazy with the fire burning. We've forced his hand. The only option now is for him to push on and attack the village."

She gave a click of her tongue and spurred her horse forward, slightly ahead of the rest and leaving Tarthus to ponder in silence. She needed time to try and calm herself. The sight of Caelon had stirred her memories of Silas and it had taken all her self control to keep from throwing the plan to the wind and trying to ride him down. Even thinking about it now made her grind her teeth in frustration. He had been so close!

She took a deep breath and looked at the forest around her, again reminded of how similar it was to the forest near her own home. She had used to love playing in those woods and could remember climbing a particularly big birch tree near their center. None of the others children had dared climb to the top, preferring instead to stay on the lower branches, safer and closer to the ground. She had tried though and had gone scrabbling up from branch to branch, knuckles grazed, fingers worn and blistered from the climb, closer to the top than any of the others. She had almost made it too. Then, less than a meter from the top, she had been stretching out to reach her next handhold when she had overbalanced and tumbled from her perch. Going down had been decidedly more painful than going up. She must have hit every branch on the tree, and maybe even one or two of the other kids who had been cheering her on. Miraculously she had survived the fall almost entirely unscathed, and she suspected it was the tree inflicted bruises and scrapes that were to thank for it, her fall having been less a straight plummet and more a series of minor impacts all the way down. As usual her mother had been furious at her impetuousness. Callisto had done her best play the humble daughter of course, but the very next day she had been eyeing the tree again, thinking of how best to tackle it next time. She had never been easily deterred.

She sighed quietly to herself. All these years later and she could still remember that sickening, lurching sensation in the pit of her stomach at the precise moment she had lost her balance and toppled from the tree. It was the same feeling she had had months later when Xena's army had swept into her village, burning and murdering everything in sight and changing her life forever.

A light cough sounded behind her and she turned to see Atrix riding at her back. She nodded to him and he moved alongside her.

"Are you sure this is going to work?" he asked quietly so as not to be overheard.

"You asked me to lead, so I'm leading," she replied flatly.

"I know, I know," Atrix said, his tone one of exasperation. "I didn't mean it like that."

Callisto shot him a look out of the corner of her eyes and he gave a frustrated exhale as he tried to put his thoughts into words.

"I just meant we got the drop on them before, but now they know we're ready for them. This won't be an easy fight."

Callisto raised an eyebrow at him.

"Y'think?" she sneered sarcastically then took another breath to calm herself.

"Look Atrix, I wasn't exactly a great military leader like Agamemnon or Odysseus," she said, trying to sound a little less harsh and failing miserably. "I led a band of marauding thugs and killers, and most of the time I was on the opposite side of situations like this. I've never had lead a rearguard or even a defence before."

They rounded the final turn and Penthos came into view. At Callisto's instruction, the gates had been left wide open and the hanged bodies of the bandits taken in the previous raid strung up against the stockade. The hoods they had been wearing to cover their faces had been removed to reveal their hideous death masks. She could sense Atrix stiffen at the sight of them.

"This is what I know how to do," she said, pointing to the bodies and giving him a hard stare as she did so. "Take it or leave it."

She spurred her horse forward, riding up to the village gates where Dahlia and few other villagers were waiting patiently. She frowned at the sight of them. Dahlia was clutching a bow, though where she had got it she was not sure.

"Is everything ready?" She asked, dismounting as she did so.

Dahlia nodded in response.

"We've done as much of what you asked as we could," she said.

"You're all ready to fight if you need to?" Callisto said, eyeing the pregnant woman's stomach meaningfully.

Dahlia nodded again.

"We are," she said.

"Okay then," Callisto said. "Get to your positions. They'll be here soon and we didn't spend all this time and effort making a welcome mat not to lay it out for them now did we?"

A couple of the villagers chuckled at that, but Dahlia remained grim and stone faced.

"I just want this all to be over," she said. "Maybe then I'll have the chance to grieve properly for my father."

Callisto felt that same guilty pang clutch at her stomach again, and she looked at Dahlia steadily.

"I'll make them pay for what they did," she said.

Dahlia looked back at her, her eyes cold and unreadable.

"That's for the village to decide," she said simply, then turned on her heel and headed back through the gate to her assigned position.

Callisto watched her go, feeling a little confused. Had she said something wrong? Try as she might she could not figure the other woman out. Was she not aching for revenge against her father's killers?

Atrix appeared at her side and she gave a brief start.

"We should put a bell on you or something!" she said.

Atrix only tilted his head and gave her an 'in your dreams' look.

"Care to tell me what your wife is doing with a bow?" she asked.

He shrugged.

"I've been giving her lessons," he said.

"Well isn't that just lovely." She rolled her eyes at him. "If she hits me with it, I'm coming back from Tartarus to kill you."

"Maybe we'll get lucky," Atrix said with a wry grin. "Maybe she'll miss you and hit me."

"Oh, how I live in hope," Callisto replied sarcastically.

* * *

Caelon's horse stomped along the trail excitedly, its thick tail swishing in agitation with each step it took. Their march had been slow and steady since the ambush and the heat of the flames had now faded behind them, calming the horses considerably. A brief headcount once they had cleared the smoke revealed that they had lost around twenty men, the majority of whom had simply fled following the lighting of the fires and the second volley of arrows. To his surprise, a number of Herriod's men had stood their ground, including young Milades, who had managed to grab one of the horse's reins when its original rider had been killed. Now he sat astride it, riding close by Tethis who in turn rode alongside Caelon. Neither looked entirely at ease, but at least Tethis wore a look of grim determination. Caelon smiled inwardly. At least he knew one of his men was not about to break and head for the hills. The battle had clearly become personal for him following the ambush. Milades on the other hand, looked nervous. His eyes flickered from left to right, and a cold sweat beaded on his upper lip as he watched warily for any further ambushes.

Caelon glanced back over the rest of the group and felt his lip curl in a disgusted sneer. Their total number now stood at just over forty. At least they still outnumbered Methades' mercenaries, not that they should be a problem anyway. The corrupt mercenary captain had assured him he would deal with his own men when the time came.

Ahead the trail curved right and Caelon knew from his year spent raiding and pillaging that they were about to emerge from the trees and onto the open stretch of land before the village gates. He wasn't expecting much resistance as they rounded the bend and Penthos came into view.

What they got instead was something that made his stomach turn. The village stockade stood before them, the gates, surprisingly, were wide open and inviting. That was where the good news ended though. Three bodies of men he recognised hung limply from the pointed tops of the stockade, clearly days dead, their broken necks lolling hideously in the mid morning sun. A chorus of mutters sounded from the men at his back as they caught sight of the corpses. Below them standing in the gate to the village was Callisto, two of Methades' mercenaries flanking her on either side. The three of them sat astride their horses, weapons at the ready.

Caelon held up a clenched fist and the whole of his force drew to a stop. What was Callisto doing with them? This was the last thing he had expected. Did this mean there was no army? That Herriod had been wrong? He could feel a deep seated rage boiling over inside him and a dark sneer lit his face. He had been had! This was all wrong! All of it!

"What's the matter Caelon?" Callisto called from her horse. "You thought Penthos was just going to roll over and play dead for you?"

She pointed to the bodies hanging from the stockade with the tip of her sword.

"This is what we'll do to all of you!" she shouted to the rest of the bandits. "One by one or all at once, it really doesn't matter."

She leveled her sword at the rest of them, her eyes glinting wickedly.

"Soooo..." she said, her mouth rolling the 'o' sound playfully. "Who wants to go first?"

Next to him Caelon heard Tethis let out a snarl of anger as his temper overcame his admittedly not very sharp senses.

"I'll see you dead witch!" he yelled at her, enraged spittle flecking his chin. He tugged his sword free from its scabbard, his hands tightening in a white knuckle grip on the reins of his horse as he booted it to a gallop before Caelon had chance to stop him.

Callisto's gaze shifted to the lone charging bandit and she gave an amused grin.

"Looks like we have a volunteer," she said gesturing to the mercenary on her right. "Atrix."

The mercenary gave a curt nod and lifted his bow, sighting along the arrow as the drawstring pulled tight. Tethis was so close, he barely had to aim. The arrow loosed with a piercing whistle and a moment later the big bandit was tumbling backward off his horse, the arrow clean through his throat.

Caelon could hear his men shift uneasily behind him.

"Hold steady boys," he said. "Even if these mercs are working with her, we still outnumber them."

"So far," Callisto shot back with a sly wink. "But we plan to change all that."

Then, gesturing to the two mercenaries, they turned their horses as one and trotted off into the village.

Caelon watched them go, frowning as he did so. Something wasn't right here. Milades spoke up suddenly echoing his own thoughts.

"I don't like this," he said. "We should get out of here. She's up to something."

Caelon turned on the man with a snarl and seized him by the neck of his boiled leather breastplate. Milades gasped in surprise as he found himself face to face with the lead bandit's scarred visage.

"There been a change in leadership that no on told me about?" Caelon snapped harshly. "Because last I checked, I was the one leading this raid, not you!"

Milades shook his head desperately.

"No change boss! None at all!" he said.

Caelon gave another snarl and shoved the younger man roughly away from him.

"Good!" he snarled, his voice dripping with venom, before turning to address the rest of his men.

"Hear that?" he snapped, gesturing to Milades. There was no way he could back down now. The young idiot had challenged his authority and in doing so, had guaranteed the course of action he had not wanted to take. "He says there's no change, and you know what, there won't be none neither. Now come on!"

He span his horse on the spot and drew his sword from its sheath.

"We got ourselves a village to burn!" he hissed.

With that, a half hearted cheer went up from his men, the only exception being Milades who merely sat his horse darkly as the remains of the bandit gang charged toward the village gates.

* * *

Callisto stood alone on the gallows at the center of the village green while Atrix and the rest of the mercenaries waited in one of the side streets, all of them mounted, their horses shifting nervously as the tension of approaching battle mounted. Atrix alone carried his bow, a single blazing fire arrow nocked and ready to let fly.

Carefully, Callisto lifted her sword and gazed at the blade. It was not exactly the finest craftsmanship she had ever seen and she would have happily taken her old sword over it any day of the week. It was a thick bladed heavy thing, clearly meant for a big man like Herriod had been, and she would have little choice but to swing it two handed. It was not too much of an issue, but she would have preferred the flexibility of being able to switch between the two as she was used to.

She turned and glimpsed Dahlia in one of the upper story windows of the inn, her bow propped neatly beside her, a quiver of freshly flighted arrows strapped across her back. She gave Atrix's wife a questioning 'ready?' thumbs up. Dahlia nodded in return, her face a mask of cold concentration. Callisto turned away, her eyes scanning the village green as she made a last minute check of their preparations. She was not really sure why she was bothering. If they had missed anything or made any mistakes, she would hardly be able to fix them now. Maybe it was just for her own peace of mind. She had seen far too many of her plans go awry in the past because she had raced in without thinking things through fully, or had failed to anticipate one of Xena's potential courses of action.

She bit her lower lip and tried to concentrate as she eyed the cluster of oil barrels arranged just to the left of the street where Caelon and his men should be emerging from. Of course that was if the villagers had correctly blocked off all the other streets in the village. Her instructions had been explicit, and she was sure they had done as she had told them. She had even checked the blockades as she had both ridden out of the village, and back in mere moments before. Still she couldn't shake that horrible sickening feeling in the pit of her stomach, the same one she had had all those years ago when she had fallen from the tree, and again when Cirra had burned beneath a pale dusk sky.

Suddenly, her ears pricked up as she caught the first sound of galloping hooves. She steadied herself, closing her eyes for a brief moment and letting out a long soothing breath. Her shot at Elysium was riding on this.

No, she realised, more than that.

This was not just about her. This was not just about Elysium or her own peace and freedom from the nightmares of the burning village and dead family that had plagued her for so long. This was about Penthos, and Dahlia, and Atrix and all the other villagers who would be just like her family if she did not, just this once in her whole misbegotten life, try to stand up and be counted for something other than revenge. For a brief moment she heard that same laughter in the back of her mind, the laughter that haunted her and made a mockery of her every effort to change. With a great effort she opened her eyes again, her grip on the sword tightening as she did her best to shut it out.

"Here we go," she muttered under her breath.

Caelon and the other mounted bandits were the first ones to round the corner, their horses charging out onto the village green in a spray of dirt and churned turf. With no one in direct sight save her, they quickly stopped short. Caelon was frowning darkly, his eyes taking in the whole of the green as quickly as he could.

Callisto adopted her most infuriatingly ingratiating smile and released one of her hands from the grip of her sword to wave at them cheerfully.

"Hey guys!" she called, her voice all forced sweetness and light. "Welcome to the last day of your lives!"

As on the trail, she snapped her fingers loudly, and reliable as ever, Atrix loosed his fire arrow just as the last of Caelon's mounted men emerged onto the green. The bandit leader's eyes widened in alarm as they darted to the barrels at his right.

"YOU BI..." he began to shout, but was cut off when the arrow thudded into the oil soaked barrels.

The sound of a dull 'whump' filled the air as the first barrel roared into life. For less than a second the barrel blazed hotly under the mid morning sun, then with a concussive boom, it exploded in a lethal cloud of splintered wood and burning oil. Callisto gave a satisfied smile as the second and third barrels were lit up by the explosion, and moments later two more thundering explosions hammered into the cluster of mounted men.

The screams of man and horse alike filled the air as the sharp splinters of wood and burning oil droplets hit home, and a thick cloud of smoke washed across the green. A nearby house had been caught by the blast, and the fire had spread to its thatched roof which it was now devouring hungrily. Callisto could hear the villagers hidden in the back streets away from the fighting shouting to each other as they ran to combat the flames. Good. That's why she had stationed them there.

She raised her sword high above her head as the first bandits on foot began to emerge from the smoke along with the one or two who had managed, amazingly, to stay mounted through the whole thing. Caelon was not among them.

"Ready!" she called, then dropped her sword as if it were an executioners blade.

"Loose!" she yelled.

Dahlia and the other villagers secreted away in the top stories of the taller buildings around the green let fly with the bows and slings they had managed to gather from around the village. Most of the shots of stones and arrows went wide, the villagers lacking any real training for the most part, but a few managed to strike home, felling still more of the bandits and thinning their numbers still further.

"Again!" Callisto yelled as she stepped off the edge of the gallows and dropped nimbly to the ground. A fresh volley of arrows and stones filled the air, and still more bandits fell.

"Atrix!" she shouted over the chaos of the battle. "Time to cut 'em down!"

The mercenary nodded and gestured his men forward as they emerged onto the green, their horses forming up in a perfect cavalry line. For a brief moment they sat still, some clutching swords while others hefted long spears. Then as one, they lowered their weapons at the enemy.

"Charge!" Atrix bellowed and the horses leaped forward, their hooves churning the earth beneath them as they covered the distance in mere moments. The bandits desperately tried to form up into some kind of defensive line but all to no avail as the charging mercenaries smashed into them with all the thundering force of Zeus' own lightning bolts. The bandit resistance broke and they scattered in all directions, some running for the village gates while others found themselves sprinting across the green in complete confusion. The mercenaries wheeled their horses and turned back to ride down the survivors.

Callisto wasted no time herself, hefting her heavy sword and charging into the throng of battle with an ear piercing banshee shriek that turned all eyes to her. She ducked the first sword swing that came at her, not even bothering to attempt a parry and instead bringing her blade around in a vicious cross cut that split the bandit in a slanting line across his torso.

The next man put up more of a fight, circling her warily and making probing jabs with his weapon which seemed to be a good two inches longer than hers. She batted each strike away with little effort, each time feinting left as she did so. When he moved left in anticipation of her after one his jabs, she quickly moved right, stepping inside his guard as if it were not even there and ramming her sword cleanly through his gut. The man barely managed a pained gasp as he dropped back, his eyes already glazing over.

Suddenly from over her shoulder she heard the sound of pounding hooves and she turned just in time to see a bandit on horse back, much more fresh faced than the rest, bearing down on her, his narrow bladed sword cutting a thing line through the drifting wisps of smoke. Callisto barely had time to get her own too heavy blade up in a defensive parry. The power of strike was amplified by the speed of his mount and sent a painful shock through her hands as her wrists twisted viciously with the force of it, causing her sword to sail from her grip and disappear into the smoke.

She span desperately in an attempt to avoid the follow through slicing her head clean off and found herself rolling on her back in the dirt, the sky spinning dizzyingly above her. She had no time to waste. Her attacker was probably circling back for another charge at her already.

She had managed to get herself up to one knee when she heard the sound of the horse's hooves pounding in the dirt behind her again. She twisted just in time to see that she was too late. The young bandit's next strike would not miss its mark and she had no time left to react.

Then suddenly, the rider straightened bolt upright in his saddle, his sword sliding from between limp fingers as his animal continued its headlong dash straight past her. As he passed, Callisto could clearly make out the outline of a black and white feathered shaft planted squarely through the base of his neck. His horse carried him a few more steps before he tumbled from the saddle, crashing lifelessly to the ground.

Following the flight path of the arrow she turned to see Atrix, still mounted and lowering his bow as he reached back for another arrow. She flashed him a quick nod of thanks and in return he gave her one of his 'what can you do' shrugs.

And that was when Caelon jumped him.

The bandit leader emerged from the drifting clouds of smoke that had engulfed the village green, a long bladed dagger more akin to a short sword than anything else clutched tightly in his right hand. He took Atrix by surprise, seizing him roughly by the arm and dragging him down from his horse and to the ground with him.

Callisto was up and sprinting almost immediately. She could not let this happen! Not again!

Atrix struggled desperately as the tall bandit leader held him down, one hand clamped like a vice around the thrashing mercenary's throat, the other lifting the dagger to gleam wickedly as a stray ray of sun pierced the wafting smoke. Callisto was only a meter away when he brought it down, stabbing Atrix squarely through the heart.

"Atrix!" Callisto cried, but Dahlia's husband could only cough and splutter in return, his life already ebbing away as Caelon pulled the dagger free. The bandit leader's face was alight with blood lust and he was about to bring the dagger down for a second strike when Callisto hammered into him with a cry of purest rage and anguish, carrying him viciously to the ground with her.

The two of them rolled in the thick grass of the green, fingers clawing at one another as they desperately sought purchase around their opponent's throat. Caelon twisted violently beneath Callisto, his knee coming up into her spine and sending her sailing over him in awkward flip that landed her square on her back with a thud powerful enough to drive the wind out of her. He wasted no time in scrambling on top of her, using his weight to press her down as he searched vainly for the dagger he had dropped. Callisto rocked her hips back, managing to rap her thighs tightly around his waist and lever him up off her. He responded by attempting to grip her by throat but she bit down hard into the skin of his grasping hand, causing him to draw back with a pained hiss as she went for the stiletto dagger still concealed in her bracer. Caelon's eyes lit up in realisation as she wrenched it free, and in an instant he had the wrist of the hand clutching the dagger in a vice like grip. With a vicious snarl of hatred he lifted her hand and slammed it hard and repeatedly against the ground. Callisto howled in agony as she felt the pain become unbearable, and the dagger tumble free from suddenly numb fingers.

Caelon snatched it up out of the dirt, a triumphant smile flashing across his face as he hefted it over her.

"I remember this thing!" he said. "Sev took it from you when we caught you at the Headstone. Must be pretty important to you for you to have taken it back."

Callisto spat at him defiantly.

"What?" he sneered in return. "A boyfriend give it to you or something?"

He lifted the dagger, ready to strike her through the heart as he had done Atrix when the familiar whistle of an arrow being loosed filled the air. It struck him hard through the bicep of the arm holding the dagger, and he let out an agonised cry of surprise as the it fell from his grasp.

Callisto twisted her head, and caught sight of Dahlia, kneeling in the grass over Atrix, her husband's bow raised, string still vibrating after the shot. Tears streaked through the soot covering her cheeks as she dropped a hand to settle lightly on Atrix's unmoving chest.

"Not a boyfriend!" she cried at Caelon as he turned to see who it was that had shot him. "My father!"

Callisto seized the moment's distraction and heaved with her hips, her thighs still clenched around Caelon's waist as she thrust him him sideways with a grunt of effort. He crashed head long into the ground with another yell of pain as the impact drove the arrow deeper through his arm. For a moment he could only lie there stunned, as Callisto clambered to her feet, and moved to stand over him. Around them the battle was dying down, the majority of the bandits having either fled, been captured or killed. Meanwhile, the mercenaries moved back and forth mopping up the last vestiges of those who were still fighting.

She turned her glare on Caelon, where he lay groggy at her feet, her lip twisting in a furious snarl. This man had taken two good men out of the world and he had done it as easily as drawing breath. He had killed and maimed across the face of Greece with no cause save his own gratification, and he had done it without a moment's hesitation. She could feel the anger and hatred building inside her and for the first time since Tartarus she did not try to hold it back.

Her foot lashed out savagely, catching him hard across the temple. His head snapped to one side at the force of it and he groaned groggily. Unsatisfied, she lashed out again, this time driving a volley of brutal kicks, one after the other, into his ribs.

"You!" she cried as he doubled over in an instinctive attempt to protect himself. "You killed them! All of them! They were good people and you killed them!"

She kicked him again and again, as in the back of her mind that same mocking laughter sounded louder and louder.

"Callisto." A voice said softly at her back but she ignored it.

"I killed them!" she snarled again, not even noticing the slip as the laughter in mind stoking her rage until it burned like volcano in her gut. "All of them! Every last one! What did they do? They did nothing! DO YOU HEAR ME? THEY DID NOTHING!"

She was practically screaming now, her breath coming in ragged gasps between shouts as she continued to kick at his face and chest, Caelon only curling into a tighter ball in response.

"Callisto!" the same voice said again, shouting this time, and she felt a hand grip her tightly by the shoulder.

"What!?" she snapped viciously, spinning to plant a flat palmed strike against the throat of the person interrupting her. She only managed to arrest the blow when she saw it was Dahlia, instead clenching her fist tightly at her side.

"Don't kill him," the other woman said, streaks of tears still staining her face. "It's not right."

"Right!?" Callisto gave a sarcastic laugh of mock astonishment. "Right!? He killed Silas and Atrix both, Dahlia. He killed them, and we would have killed everyone else here! He deserves to suffer long and hard for all the things he's done!"

"No," Dahlia replied firmly, shaking her head as she did so. "He deserves justice, to be punished for his crimes, like all the rest of them. Suffering isn't justice!"

"No it's not," Callisto agreed with her, "but it is retribution!"

"That's what this is about? Revenge?" Dahlia shook her head again. "No. You don't get to take revenge."

Callisto glared at her, her eyes blazing fire.

"And why not?" she demanded.

"Because they weren't your family _to _avenge!" Dahlia snapped, her composure finally breaking as her anger boiled over to match Callisto's. "Silas was _my_ father, and Atrix was _my _husband! I think _I'm_ the one who has the right to decide how to deal with this, don't you?"

Callisto could only glare at her, her fury still seething in her gut like some great and terrible monster as she wrestled for control of it. She was right of course, but that was what made it all the worse. How could she just give Caelon up after all he had done? How could she not make him suffer for all the pain he had caused? But then what? What difference would it really make whether he suffered or not? It would not fill the emptiness, would not make the pain and hate go away, or chase that demonic laughter from her soul. She ground her teeth hard against one another as she tried to calm herself.

"Alright," she managed finally, taking a deep breath as she felt the rage start to die inside her, and that familiar aching hollowness begin to return in its place. "Do whatever you want with him. I..."

She trailed off then sighed and shook her head tiredly.

"I just don't care any more," she finished.

With that she stooped and picked up her dagger from the ground where it had fallen before beginning to walk away, leaving Dahlia alone with her grief.

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: **Well here we are, the final update of this story. From this point on any further changes made will just be proofreading to remove errors from the text. I've given all these chapters and extra once over but may have missed a few grammar or spelling mistakes here and there. These final chapters were a lot of fun to write and they came so easily that I ended up doing them in one day long binge. Once I got going it was hard to stop, and they were just tremendous, particularly since we get to see Callisto being a little more of her old self at times.

Anyway, hope anyone still reading this is enjoying it, and that the ending is as satisfying for you to read as it was for me to write.


	15. Chapter Fourteen: The Debt of Suffering

**Chapter Fourteen: The Debt of Suffering**

Caelon was silent as Callisto and Dahlia walked into the stables where he was being held. Like the other five bandits with him, each of whom had managed to survive the assault but had not succeeded in their flight from the village, he had been thoroughly tied to a bench that had been dragged in from the inn. Each of the prisoners had been tied to a different bench, to prevent them using their combined strengths to attempt to break rickety old wood, and for extra safety there was a rotating guard of three of the surviving mercenaries posted in the stables with them. Currently Tarthus was among the guards, leaning nonchalantly against the wall, his hand resting casually on the hilt of his sword.

He straightened hurriedly as they arrived, standing to what Callisto assumed to be military drilled attention. It was amazing the change in attitude the mercenaries had taken to her since the battle had turned out in their favour. Where before there had only been a kind of wary unease, now they treated her with the same respect they had previously reserved only for Methades and occasionally Atrix.

The thought of Atrix made her sniff as she caught sight of Caelon. Of all the bandits that had been captured he was by far the worse for wear. The arrow had been removed from his arm and the wound cleaned and bandaged, but his face was a mass of bruises from the savage beating she had delivered. His lower lip was split and swollen while a nasty looking gash above his eye had spilled a trail of blood down the side of his face that had not been cleaned away and was now crusted and flaking. He sat slumped slightly to one side, or at least as much as his bindings would allow him to, presumably to relieve the pressure on the ribs Callisto was certain she had felt break when she kicked him.

Despite his sorry state, she did not feel an ounce of pity for him. As far as she was concerned it was a magnitude of suffering less than he deserved and if the villagers had their way it would soon be cut short. The one consolation was the knowledge that Hades would be far less kind to them than the villagers when Caelon and the others eventually emerged from Charon's ferry.

"We're here to talk to the prisoners," Dahlia said, her voice a stony calm that Callisto still could not get used to. How could she hold it together like this? In a day she had lost her husband, the father of her child and her own father, and both of them to the same man who was now sitting before her. Callisto didn't know how she kept from stabbing the scum in the neck.

Tarthus nodded.

"Just be careful," he said. "We've checked his bindings carefully every hour all afternoon, but they're a tricky lot. You never know what they might be getting up to, and he's a sly one."

He gestured toward Caelon.

"Has he spoken at all?" Dahlia asked, fixing the man who had stabbed her husband and shot her father with a cold, hard stare.

Tarthus shook his head.

"Not a word, but then I'm not entirely sure his jaw isn't broken."

Dahlia shot a look at Callisto, who only shrugged in response. The other woman turned and made her way across the room, Callisto following closely behind her, checking the stiletto dagger neatly secured in her bracer as she went. She doubted she would need it, but its presence reassured her.

"Can you speak?" Dahlia asked as they drew up in front of him.

Caelon shifted slightly so he could lift his head to better look at them, wincing from the pain in his side as he did so. He did not speak however. Instead his jaw worked silently and, suddenly he spat a huge bloody wad of sputum at their feet, his eyes blazing with defiance.

"I guess we can take that as a yes," Callisto said.

"Take it however you want," Caelon sneered back at her. His gaze shifted to Dahlia.

"Alright then," he said. "I know why you're here. I know how you deal with people like me. Ask you're questions if you really must, but we both know what my answers'll be."

Dahlia straightened slightly, doing her best to look authoritative and imposing but being hindered by her swollen belly, which only succeeded in making her look maternal.

"Have you spent the last year raiding this village and merchant caravans in the surrounding regions?" she asked.

Caelon shook his head in disbelief.

"Really?" he muttered. "You're gonna make a song and dance of asking me questions about stuff you all saw me do?"

"We allow everyone a chance to defend themselves," Dahlia answered flatly. "Even if we have witnesses to the contrary."

"No need to defend myself," Caelon sneered. "I don't regret any of it. Yes, I raided this flea ridden rat hole you call a home, and I'd have burned it to the ground too if not for her."

He nodded toward Callisto. She gritted her teeth angrily, fighting the sudden overwhelming urge she had to throttle the man.

"Did you enter into an agreement with Methades, the former mercenary captain in command hired to protect this village, to be paid to spare the village but to continue raiding in order that we would continue to secure his services?"

Caelon nodded again impatiently.

"Yes, yes, yes," he said, glancing around as he did so. "Where is ol' Methades anyway? I don't see him here."

He shifted his gaze back to Callisto again, his lip curling upward in a snarl that made the old scar across his face twitch.

"Did your little hitwoman here put paid to him like she did my boys Sev and Herriod?"

"He's escaped beyond the limits of our justice for the time being," Dahlia said, her tone sounding more and more official with each passing moment. "He has been declared an enemy of Penthos and will be dealt with in the same manner should he ever return."

Caelon snorted.

"Listen to you," he jeered. "Bit high and mighty for a fisherman's daughter."

Dahlia leaned closer, but Callisto was relieved to see she remained out of arms reach of the bandit leader.

"My fatherwas a blacksmith," she hissed, her composed mask cracking for the briefest instant, "His name was Silas. You killed him, like you killed my husband, and for both of them I will see you hang."

She straightened again, her voice returning to the same stony calm it had had before.

"Did you lead an attack on Penthos this morning, in which five villagers and three mercenaries were killed?"

Caelon shrugged as well as he could manage in his bindings.

"Didn't quite work out did it," he said.

"Did you lead an attack on Penthos this morning in which five villagers and three mercenaries were killed?" Dahlia repeated, her voice decidedly less patient this time.

Caelon fixed her with a level stare.

"Yes," he said.

Dahlia turned away, regarding the other bandits in the room with the same cold expression she had previously reserved for Caelon.

"Is this man your leader?" she asked.

They shifted uneasily in their bindings but no answer was forthcoming.

"Please be aware that a lack of response will be taken as an affirmative, and that as his subordinates you will all be held accountable for the same crimes as him" Dahlia said.

Still the prisoners remained silent.

"Oh come on boys!" Caelon called to them. "You really gonna let the little fishwife intimidate you?"

He snorted in disgust.

"Thought you were all made of sterner stuff than that," he muttered.

None of them spoke, most instead choosing to look down at the floor.

"I have been given the authority by the people of Penthos to pass your sentence," Dahlia continued, ignoring Caelon's outburst. "Due to the severity of your crimes against them, your punishment is to be equally severe. You will be taken from here and hanged until you are dead. The sentence is to be carried out immediately."

She turned and walked away, Callisto falling into step behind her.

"What about her?" Caelon called after them. "What about your little harpy there?"

"What about me?" Callisto said, spinning back to face him angrily.

"She ain't no innocent either!" Caelon said, continuing to address himself directly to Dahlia. "I know all the stories about her! She's done twice as much evil as I could've ever done in a lifetime of raiding. You reckon yourselves all noble and just? A brave but principled little frontier town? You gonna turn those principles on one who helped you? Or just the ones that inconvenience you?"

Dahlia turned at that, her stare as cold and piercing a sliver of purest ice.

"You have done more than just inconvenience us!" she snapped. "You have made us live in fear for a year, assaulted and killed any number of innocents, attempted to destroy our village and enslave our women and children."

"All crimes she's guilty of," Caelon nodded toward Callisto again. "You want to judge us, surely you have to judge her too."

Dahlia glanced at Callisto, her gaze softening slightly as she did so.

"She has not committed any crimes here," she said. "Let those who she has wronged judge her, as we are judging you."

"Convenient little out that," Caelon muttered with a shake of his head.

Dahlia ignored him, instead heading for the door. Callisto strode along level with her, casting a glance back over her shoulder at the bandit leader. He only stared back defiantly at her.

"How do you it?" she whispered, still somewhat amazed that this was the same woman who had been cowering away from a bandit when she had first arrived and who had invited her down to breakfast only a day later. "How do you manage to stay so calm in front of him? All I have do is look at him and I want to gouge his eyes out with my thumbs."

Dahlia glanced at her out of the corner of her eye, a horrified expression creeping across her face.

"You'd prefer I just closed the doors and burned the stables down with them inside?" she said sarcastically.

Callisto only shrugged.

"It'd be a start," she said.

The other woman just shook her head sadly, and turned to Tarthus.

"Go and get the others please," she said, "I would like everyone to be here when we take them outside for execution. It will be safer."

Tarthus gave a small nod and flashed her a small consoling smile.

"Right away," he said, and ducked quickly out of the stables.

Dahlia turned back to face Callisto as he left.

"I've got preparations to make," she said sadly. "Could you stay here and watch them until Tarthus and the other mercenaries return? I'd feel a lot safer with you here with them."

Callisto cocked an eyebrow at her in surprise, but still managed to nod.

"Not a problem," she said.

Dahlia gave her a curt nod before she followed Tarthus outside. Callisto let out a long calming breath as she turned to lean casually against the wooden wall of the stables. Caelon was glaring at her, his eyes filled with hate.

She flashed him an innocent smile, doing her best to keep her temper.

"Problem?" she asked sweetly.

"You think you're better than me," Caelon sneered.

Callisto laughed at the absurdity of his statement.

"Oh Caelon," she said, pressing a hand to her chest in mock shock. "I don't _think_ I'm better than you. I _know_ I am!"

Caelon gave a her dark smile, his face twisted cruelly by the scar that ran from the corner of his mouth to his ear.

"You may have got these people eatin' out of the palm of your hand, but not me," he said. "You ain't foolin' me one bit. I've heard all about you, the crazy stuff you've done. You're a monster, cut, dry and salted."

The innocent smile on Callisto's face died as he spoke, his words sparking the anger inside her.

"And what are you?" she snapped back at him. "A petty little man with a petty little gang, terrorising villages on the edge of nowhere because he's too pathetic to cut it with the big boys and fight someone who might actually offer him a challenge?"

Caelon looked equally taken aback by her words, only managing a shrug in response.

"I know my limits," he said. "And I always knew it would come to an end sooner or later. Guess its better to go out like this than the alternative."

"And what's the alternative?" Callisto frowned at him.

Caelon's shoulders sagged slightly and he let out a long low breath as the reality of his situation finally began to settle over him.

"Dying with your tail between your legs, begging for mercy like some kind of mongrel dog," he said.

Strangely Callisto could feel her temper fading as quickly as it had come. Caelon no longer looked angry or defiant to her eyes. Instead he looked tired. Tired, resigned and alone, just the way Callisto herself felt. Without truly thinking about what she was doing, she found herself crossing the room to seat herself on the bench next to him, but being careful to remain a safe distance from him even then. She rested her elbows on her knees and stared absently at the mix of straw and horse manure that covered the packed dirt floor, her thoughts a million miles away.

"Why do we do this?" she asked softly.

Caelon gave her a long searching look.

"Lost someone didn't you," he said. It wasn't a question.

She shook her head.

"Not someone," she said and turned to look Caelon squarely in the eye. "Everyone. All to people like you."

She paused.

"And like me," she added finally.

Caelon grunted.

"I lost my pa," he said flatly in response. "He was a mercenary like your friends out there. Spent his entire life fighting other people's battles, other people's wars, and barely even getting paid for it. Then one day he's burning on a funeral pyre the same as half his buddies, and he's not even getting paid for that. Decided then that I wasn't going to let people make me fight to earn money. I was going fight to make them pay me, even if it meant killing 'em to do it."

"And now you'll die for it," Callisto replied, no longer sure how to feel about any of this. "Was it worth it?"

"Was what worth it?" Caelon frowned at her.

"All the pain," she said. "All the suffering and death?"

Caelon looked at her seriously.

"Death's what we deal in," he replied and sat back as comfortably as he could manage. "And even the likes of us gotta pay the butcher's bill when it's owin',"

He glanced over at her.

"When's yours due?"

Callisto only sat and stared at the floor.

"I don't really know," she said, then lifted her eyes. Outside the afternoon sun was beginning to dip toward the horizon, like a glinting golden dinar in the sky. The thought stuck in her head. Like a glinting golden dinar in the sky. She flinched as the memories of the Headstone came flooding back to her, memories of a bag of dinars and the man ultimately responsible for all of this. He had escaped Penthos' idea of 'justice' but he had not escaped her. Not yet at least.

"I know someone else who's is though," she said, clambering to her feet and heading for the door just as Tarthus and Dahlia returned, the other mercenaries trailing close behind them.

"Callisto?" Dahlia asked as she headed for the door. "Where are you going?"

"Caelon just reminded me I've got some unfinished business that needs taking care of," she said, as she stalked out of the stables to find a horse.

"You're leaving!?" Dahlia said incredulously.

Callisto shook her head.

"Not really, just a short trip. A debt that needs repaying. I shouldn't be gone long."

She was about to step outside when a final thought occurred to her.

"Oh, and Caelon?" she said, turning to face him one last time as she paused at the doorway. She already knew she would never see him alive again.

The bandit leader looked at her.

"What?" he said.

"Tell Charon Callisto says hi," she said and walked out into the early evening air.

* * *

Methades clambered down off his horse, with tired groan and stretched, the sound of his spine popping filling the air. Nearby the long shadows of dusk were gathering inside the strange arched doorway of the Headstone as he began to walk toward it. He cast a wary glance back over his shoulder. He was alone out on the plane, but behind him the forest in the basin still blazed fiercely, thick columns of smoke drifting lazily in the evening air, each one the product of a dozen different fires scattered like pin pricks all across the leafy forest canopy. Above the sky was burned a deep and bloody crimson as the sun dipped closer to the horizon.

He had nearly been caught in a couple of those blazes himself. He had spent the day lurking in the forest to avoid any potential patrols his former troops might have mounted in their search for him. He had had no doubt that they were more than likely preoccupied with Caelon's assault, but he had not managed to live as long as he had in such a dangerous profession without learning to be cautious. He had long since learned when to cut his losses and move on to the next opportunity, but unfortunately this time, cutting his losses had meant abandoning his money as well.

After hiding his monthly payment to Caelon in the incense burner at the Headstone he had stashed the remainder in the saddle bags of his favourite horse. Much to his chagrin though, when that witch Callisto had forced him to flee the village at sword point, he had not been given the opportunity to choose which horse he had fled on, leaving the money sitting in the paws of his former associates. Still, it did not matter. He had a fair inkling as to where he could find more. To the best of his knowledge, Caelon had never retrieved the dinars from the Headstone, or else Callisto would never have been kept alive when she had been taken captive. If that were the case, and Callisto had not had them with her at the village, it meant the money still had to be in the Headstone somewhere.

It had taken him all day picking his way carefully through the woods to get here without being spotted and he planned to keep it that way. Making sure to move quickly, he darted for the doorway in the mossy stone outcrop, ducking inside and into the relative safety of the shadows as he reached it. Inside, the light of the setting sun had lit everything in a dull glow, but oddly a single candle had been lit at the base of the odd lump of misshapen stone. It was burning slowly but was already approaching its base and beginning to gutter.

He frowned. That crazy zealot Pelion and those two weird villagers who trailed after him everywhere calling themselves 'Followers' must have been here earlier. Not that it mattered. They had been here plenty of times in the past and had never found the dinars he had hidden in the incense burners. Why should that change now?

He crossed hurriedly to the incense burner he usually hid the dinars in, and lifted the heavy lid with his bandaged hand, being careful not to drop it and gouge himself on it as he had done a couple of days ago. He felt his heart sink.

The burner was empty.

Maybe he had made a mistake. He dropped the lid with a clang and moved to the other burners, his desperation growing as he moved from one burner to the next on to find each one emptier than the last.

He gave a growl of growing frustration. Where was it!? Had Pelion found it after all? Had he taken it the last time he was here? No, that could not be it. Callisto must have moved it, likely hiding it somewhere else. He cast his gaze about the temple, his eyes flicking wildly over its interior as he searched for any possible hiding places. He moved quickly, hands pressing at every available surface for loose stones and the like as he searched and craned his neck to look for any alcoves or arches he may have missed.

Nothing.

His desperation began to turn to panic as the minutes ticked by. He couldn't afford to dally here for too long. He had no doubt that sooner or later his old comrades would be passing through the Headstone now that Caelon had been beaten. Soon they would begin to move out to secure the basin and the surrounding country side. As to when they came here, he couldn't be sure but he wanted to be long gone by the time they did.

He stepped into one of the cloisters, his wild eyed gaze moving backward and forward. Still no suitable spot where she might have hidden it. On the off chance he had missed something, he tilted his head back and caught sight of a number of small alcoves designed to hold candles when the temple had been in use some time in the distant past. These ones were all empty, but maybe on the opposite side...

He stepped out of the cloister and felt his heart rate double in shock.

Callisto was standing against a pillar at the opposite cloister, the pouch of dinars held up so she could make a theatrical display of inspecting it more closely. He had never even heard her enter! She must have been inside all along, watching and waiting. Her head turned and her eyes widened in mock surprise as if she were noticing him for the first time.

"Well, well," she said. "Fancy seeing you here!"

Methades drew his sword slowly, bringing the blade up in a tight guard as he stepped out into the center of the room, away from the pillars and giving himself room to move. As far as he could tell, the crazy blonde was unarmed and in an open space she would be at a disadvantage to the sword's longer reach.

Callisto straightened and planted her hands on her hips, a scolding tone entering her voice.

"Now that's hardly a friendly welcome," she said. "Anyone would think you weren't happy to see me. Or were you hoping to find something else here?"

She tossed the bag of dinars playfully in the air, then caught them with a grin.

"That's mine," Methades said stiffly, parting his feet for better stability should she come at him.

"Funny," Callisto laughed. "Looks like its mine now."

She lifted a finger to her chin and tapped it thoughtfully.

"That is a nice sword though," she said, eyeing the blade in his grip. "A very nice sword. Tell you what, I'll give you two hundred dinars for it."

She reached out with the pouch, dangling it at arms length in front of her and giving it a shake so that the coins inside clinked loudly against one another.

Methades did not take the bait, his feet remaining rooted to the spot, his grip twisting tightly on the sword hilt. Callisto withdrew the bag, giving an annoyed grunt as she did so.

"Oh dear Methades," she said with an exasperated shake of her head. "I have to say this is very disappointing! You're just no fun at all. At least Gabrielle used to play truth or dare with me!"

She tossed the pouch over her shoulder as if it meant nothing more to her than a piece of used parchment. For a moment Methades' eyes left her to follow the pouch as it flew through the air.

It was a critical mistake.

She moved like a coiled snake, stepping forward in his moment of inattention, her slim fingers wrapping around one of his wrists in a grip like iron. He tried to recoil, but too late and Callisto moved with him, blocking him from having the room to strike with his sword.

A cruel smile lit her face as her other hand snaked up his back, fingers tangling in his hair and yanking back savagely. He hissed in pain, then cried out in agony as the hand clutching his wrist gave a vicious twist and the bone inside made an audible cracking sound, sending his sword clattering to the floor.

Suddenly, she released him and he began to turn to flee, only to feel her foot slam into his side in a powerful snap kick that drove him hard against a pillar. The breath rushed out of him, and for moment he could only lean against the cold stone, gasping hard for breath.

Before he could recover, she was on him again, her hand clamping firmly under his chin, and grinding his head back against the stone. She lifted the wicked stiletto dagger she had thrown at him as he escaped the village and held it up in front of his face to gleam horribly in the light of the sinking sun.

"Please," he gasped desperately. "You can take the money! Just let me go!"

Callisto gave him a look equal parts disgust and contempt.

"I'm not interested in your money," she said. "Just a debt you are owing for Atrix, Silas and all the others who are dead because of you."

Then she leaned in close, so close he could feel her breath on his cheek as she whispered in his ear, a sound as intimate as a lover but speaking words that made his blood run cold.

"Do you remember what I told you in Penthos?" she hissed.

He did not answer, a feeling of inexorable dread settling over him as she continued on regardless.

"I told you I would see you dead before the day was done," she said.

She twisted his head in her grip until he was staring out of the doorway to the world beyond. Outside the sun was just barely visible, beginning to sink below the horizon, the final rays of day light shining on the ocean's surface.

"And would you look at that," she whispered softly in his ear. "Sunset,"

Methades' screams lasted long after the sun had gone down, but it was only after they had ceased and Callisto had departed, his sword strapped across her back, that the tremors began.

* * *

The funeral pyres for Atrix and the others lost during the battle were burning high when Callisto rode back onto the green. The light of the fire shone as a back light to the grim spectacle of the five men - Caelon and the other captured bandits - hanging from the gallows. Each of them had a thick black cloth bag hiding their faces from the world. Their hang man had done an efficient job, neatly breaking the necks of each of them. Too quick and painless by half for Callisto's liking. Nearby a warm light from the inn was spilling out onto the green, the sounds of celebration echoing from inside. The villagers and mercenaries who had survived were in there, their voices raised in hearty cheer.

Not Dahlia though. She was seated on the bench just outside, her eyes focused on Atrix's funeral pyre, tears shining in them and on her cheeks while she watched her husband's body disappear as ash on the night time ocean breeze.

Callisto dismounted and tied her horse's reins to the inn's hitching post, then moved quietly to sit beside the other woman.

"Where were you?" Dahlia asked, her eyes never drifting from the burning funeral pyres.

"At the Headstone," she said as flatly as she could manage, and tapped the other woman on the shoulder.

"Look," she said, pointing past the clouds of smoke drifting up from the forest fires and toward the distant hills beyond the basin. Near where the Headstone was barely visible, a small pin prick fire was burning brightly against the dark night sky.

Dahlia wrenched her eyes from the funeral pyres, her gaze following the direction of Callisto's pointing finger.

"Is that..." she began and Callisto gave a slight nod.

"Silas," she said. "I figured he deserved a proper funeral pyre. It's a nice view from up there. He'll be able to watch over you."

Dahlia's lower lip trembled as she turned to look Callisto fully in the eye.

"Thank you," she said.

"He..." Callisto began, but she couldn't find the words. She sat in silence for a moment, pondering what to say.

"He was a good man," she managed finally. "He deserved better."

Dahlia nodded, fresh tears staining her cheeks.

"They both did," she said, barely able to keep her voice from cracking under the grief as she turned back to Atrix's pyre and rubbed sadly at her swollen belly.

Callisto sat with her for long minutes, neither of them saying anything. Surprisingly, it was Dahlia who eventually broke the silence.

"I have a confession to make," she said.

Callisto cocked an eyebrow at her.

"Oh?"

Dahlia gave her an embarrassed glance.

"I listened outside the stables while you were talking to Caelon."

"Oh," Callisto said again.

"You lost people too," Dahlia said, her voice soft and sad.

"My family." Callisto said simply. The memory burned inside her, like wildfire in her soul and acid in her veins. "They died in a fire."

"What were they like?" Dahlia asked.

Callisto sat very still, her eyes focused on the flickering flames of Atrix's funeral pyre. The embers glowed brightly, each one fluttering hypnotically on the breeze like a tiny firefly.

"Would you believe I can hardly remember?" she said. "Their faces, their lives, what they liked to eat, what they liked to drink, what songs they liked to sing and what stories they liked to listen to..."

She sighed deeply.

"...it's like smoke. I can't hold onto most of it and the rest is just... just poison in my gut. The love I had for them, the love they had for me," she shook her head sadly. "all gone."

"And that's why you did all the things you did? All the things my father used to tell me about?"

Callisto gave her a sideways glance.

"I used to think so," she said, cocking her head slightly as she did so. "Now though, now I'm just not so sure."

She reached down to her bracer and pulled the stiletto dagger Silas had given her out into the fire light. She had cleaned it before returning, and its blade now shone with the reflected flames of the burning pyres. For a moment she was not sure what she had been intending to do with it. Then she remembered and flipped it, proffering it hilt first to Dahlia.

"Here," she said. "You should take this."

Dahlia frowned at it.

"My father gave this to you," she said, sounding confused. "I couldn't accept it."

"You have to," Callisto replied. "Your father gave it me to defend myself if we ran into trouble."

She paused and swallowed.

"That's not how I've used it though," she continued. "I've done things with it... things I don't think your father would have wanted it used for."

"But it's special to you," Dahlia protested. "You said it was perfect."

Callisto nodded.

"Oh it is," she said. "Which is precisely why I shouldn't have it. It's perfect for me, and that means its all wrong for me at the same time."

She held it out further, fixing Dahlia with an earnest look as she did so.

"Better that it goes to someone its completely wrong for."

Dahlia reached out haltingly, then took it with a curious half smile.

"You're smarter than you look," she said, sniffing back tears as she did so.

"I get that a lot," Callisto replied with a dry smile. "It's the hair isn't it?"

She clambered to her feet, preparing to head inside the inn. She would have to be moving on soon. She had the distinct feeling Zeus and Hades were not finished with her yet. She stretched tiredly, realising she had barely slept in three days. She doubted they would begrudge her just one good night's sleep on an at least slightly comfortable bed. As she stretched, she caught sight of distant storm clouds moving out to sea. They would probably sweep over Penthos and the basin in another hour or so. At least the forest fires would be put out. The day could have gone very differently if they had arrived that morning. Maybe Zeus was looking out for her a little after all.

"We should head inside," she said. "Looks like there's a storm on the way and I still need to stable my horse."

Dahlia nodded, casting one last look at Atrix's funeral pyre and stroking her belly mournfully.

"He would have been a good father," she said.

Callisto only nodded as she unhitched her horse, taking it by the reins and leading it toward the back of the inn. Dahlia walked at her side.

"There was something else I wanted to tell you," she said. "My father may have only been partially right about you."

"Partially?" Callisto said, a note of amusement in her voice.

Dahlia nodded.

"He was right; you're not a hero..."

Callisto laughed.

"Back to this again? That's what I've been trying to tell you!"

"...but," Dahlia continued, holding up a finger to underscore her point, "_I_ think you can be."

Callisto paused for a moment, a strange feeling of warmth that she couldn't remember ever having felt before spreading through her as the true meaning of Dahlia's words began to sink in.

"You know what?" she said with a genuine smile that for once was not wicked, gleeful, or malicious. "Me too."


	16. Epilogue: The Hand that Frees Him

**Epilogue: The Hand that Frees Him...**

Pelion shuffled up the hillside toward the Headstone, his old legs weary and aching, despite the power of his faith burning brightly within him. His two young Followers, Perites and Marsus were beginning to flag even more than he was. He could hardly blame them. The day had been long and arduous. When he had wakened this morning he had felt the irresistible urge to make another pilgrimage into the hills and to visit as many of the dozens of Grave Markers as he could. They had been walking all day, beginning at the Headstone before moving on to each of the others, lighting a votive candle at each one as they went. The thousand graves of their Lord each shone brightly now, a beacon to his Soul in the world beyond the living.

Pelion felt a satisfied smile settle over him. It had been the day before when a deep seated knowing had settled over him. It was the same knowing that had brought him to Penthos all those years ago, and one he had not felt since. Still he had waited though, a loyal supplicant knowing only that his time would come. While the other branches of the Followers had prepared for the day of the Return, building their numbers in secret as they readied themselves for their Lord's eventual day of reckoning against those who had wronged him, Pelion had toiled here in relative obscurity. He had taken strength in his unswerving knowledge that his role would ultimately be more important than any of the others. It was perhaps arrogance that he believed such a thing, but then he had always been an arrogant man.

"Come my brothers!" He called back to the others. "The time has come, and we must not dally. A thousand score years have we and those like us waited, and now, finally, the time is at hand! Our Lord's will must be done! The natural order of all will finally be restored!"

It was the tremors that had called them back. Every Grave Marker on the hillside had stirred restlessly just a few short hours ago, as if even after so long in death, their Lord's body yearned to live again, to be of flesh and bone and sinew once more. It was as if he wanted to reach out with long arms full of power and strength and exact bloody vengeance on the wrong doers who had taken everything from he and his kin.

As they neared the entrance, Pelion caught sight of the small pyre burning brightly nearby. That had nod been here this morning, but its presence could not have been more perfect!

"You see brothers," he said, gesturing toward it. "A great votive offering has been lit here. Our Lord's Soul is preparing. Come, come, it is time!"

He ushered the two tired younger men inside, following close behind them into the temple's dark depths. The candle they had lit that morning had guttered and died, so now the only light came from the funeral pyre outside and that too would soon be extinguished by the coming storm that hovered threateningly on the horizon. All around them long shadows danced across the carved stone, a myriad different shapes and patterns etched in purest blackness.

Pelion looked down, his eyes lighting on the body that was lying on the ground in a puddle of its own blood that shone grimly in the darkness. From the looks of it the corpse belonged to Methades, the former commander of the mercenaries in the region. His Lord truly was reaching out tonight, the circumstances could not have been better had Pelion engineered them more directly himself. A dozen myriad cracks covered the stonework, radiating out from the body blood in all directions, flowing over every surface like the single most intricate spider's web he had ever seen.

A single one of the cracks ran in a perfect and unwavering straight line from the body all the way to the misshapen stone that sat dour and dark at the other end of the temple. The crack met the base of the stone and ran up it to its apex, where it disappeared, but Pelion was reasonably certain it ran all the way down the other side as well.

Perites and Marsus both could see it as well and, like Pelion, they knew what it signified. Methades' suffering had hammered hard at the barrier between worlds. Their Lord's Soul was waiting patiently to return and that meant it was time to begin.

Perites and Marsus moved to either side of the stone, each one lighting a small candle as they went and setting it at the base of the stone with a touch that was almost tender. Pelion himself turned and moved to the body where it lay, his robes brushing lightly against the corpse's outstretched fingers. He smiled as he examined it more closely. Whoever had done this had taken a great deal of pleasure in it, and he had his suspicions of exactly who it had been. It relieved him to not have to sacrifice Perites or Marsus to achieve what he was about to do. Choosing between them would have been so... difficult.

"Brothers," he began regally, and the two other men dipped their heads in supplication as he spoke.

"The signs have lead us to this place, at this time. Our great Lord's return begins now,"

He pressed his hand, palm flat into, Methades' spilled blood.

"The hour of his freedom is at hand..." he announced, straightening as he did so.

The blood was not quite fresh. It felt cloying and sticky on his fingers, but he was certain it would do the job. He crossed the room to stand before the stone and reached out, his hand trembling in anticipation as he pressed it to the surface. He hissed almost immediately as the extreme cold of the stone blistered his skin. Ignoring the pain, he dragged his hand down the rough textured surface, the sticky blood staining a macabre trail in the flickering candle light.

"...And the hand that frees him," Pelion continued reverently, "shall be ours."

He dropped to his knees like Perites and Marsus to either side of him. For a moment all was silence and he could sense the two younger men shooting looks of doubt at one another. Did they not see? Did they not understand? Their faith was being tested and Pelion would make certain it was not found wanting.

Then he felt it.

Somewhere beneath them, deep, deep down in the earth, the tremors began. They were small at first, tiny shakings that barely stirred the burning flames of the candles, but they quickly grew stronger and stronger, each fresh wave of them harder and more violent than the last until the whole of the Headstone quaked. The fresh sound of splintering stone filled the air, underscored by a deep throated rumble as the earth shook and twisted under their feet.

Pelion threw his head back and laughed in purest delight.

"This is it!" he yelled "He comes to us!"

An ear splitting crack sounded hard and harsh as the huge lump of misshapen stone suddenly split in two, the pieces falling away from one another like two halves of a freshly cleaved egg, before finally crumbling away to dust as if they had never even been.

As the tremors subsided, Pelion lowered his gaze and caught sight of the scene before him for the first time. A figure, clad all in dark robes and hooded, knelt in the center of what had once been the lump of stone. The flickering shadows seemed to gather about the new arrival as if he was pulling them to him, and around him the dancing firelight did not so much as touch them. A long pole sat at his side topped with a silvery looking blade in the shape of a vicious sickle. The blade itself shone brightly as if moon light itself had been trapped inside.

"The Soul," Pelion breathed softly.

The figure lifted his head.

"Yes," he said, his voice low and as dark as the shadows that clustered around him.

Slowly, with a soft rustle of fabric the dark swathed figure straightened, surprising Pelion with how tall he was.

"Rise faithful Pelion," he said, lifting the sickle topped staff with a supple pale hand as he did so. "There is much work yet to be done before our Lord is truly free, but when his day of reckoning comes, and the usurpers are finally cast down from on high, you and I shall be at his side, his most loyal servants until the end of time itself."

"But I do not understand," Pelion began. "Are you not our master's Soul stretched back across the barrier to live again?"

The tall figure cocked his head, and for the first time Pelion could determine the faintest features beneath the hood. Pale skin, the same shade as the hand, and a thin saturnine mouth were all he could make out.

"I am his Soul in title, if not yet in truth." The figure said, his voice flat and unwavering. "I am his will made manifest to act upon the earth, and the hand that frees him shall be _mine!_"

"But if you are not our lord, then who are you?"

The figure reached out with his free hand and rested it lightly upon the crown of Pelion's head.

"Faithful Pelion," he said again, "My name is Mortius, and you need not doubt me." His head tilted again beneath the hood. It was almost as if her were listening to something, something beyond Pelion's hearing.

"Long have you worshiped our Lord," he said, his voice taking on a far away aspect, as if he were simply repeating the words of another. "Born to the Followers, you maintained the faith when all around you were losing theirs. You never stopped believing, no matter the pain..."

He lowered his head to look directly down at the other man, a note of wry amusement entering his voice.

"...or the sacrifices," he said. "She was so young wasn't she. So beautiful and so talented. A daughter to be proud of, and you loved her dearly for it."

"She was strong willed," Pelion said softly. "A powerful soul. She did not hold to our faith however."

"So you sent her to meet our Lord," Mortius said. "To show her how mistaken she was to not believe."

Pelion lifted his head, looking directly into the shadowed hood. He still could make out little of the mans features, but dark eyes shone vividly back at him.

"How do you know such things?" he spoke, unable to keep the awe from entering his voice. "I have never spoken of them to anyone."

"Ah my faithful Pelion," Mortius voice dropped low to little more than a whisper.

He leaned in close to Pelion's side, his words now private and for Pelion alone.

"You of all people should know," he whispered softly, "when you think of the dead, the dead can hear you."

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: **Aaaaaaand done! This was truly a great pleasure to work on, and I loved every minute of it, even if one or two chapters proved trickier than I had originally envisioned. This is now officially my longest story and I am terribly proud of it. I do hope everyone has enjoyed this little roller coaster, and if you have any strong feelings please drop me a line, either in reviews or pm. It would be great to hear what people thought of it.

Thanks again for reading, and now I'm off to plan the follow up!


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